Library  of  the  Theological  Seminary 

PRINCETON       »     NEW  JERSEY, 


Gift  of 
Margaret  Breckinridge 
(Mrs.  John) 

BX72.60.P39  C85  1830 

Cuniniings,  Asa,  1791-1856. 

Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Edward  Payson,  D.D. 

paslor  of  the  second  church  in  Portland  / 


( 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2014 


https://archive.org/details/memoirofrevedwarOOcumm_0 


1 


MEMOIR 


OF  THE 

REV.  EDWARD  PAYSON,  D.  D. 


LATE  PASTOR  OF  THE 


SECOND  CHURCH  IN  PORTLAND. 


Bene  orasse  est  bene  studuisse  Luther 


PORTLAND : 

PUBLISHED  Br  ANN  L.  PAYSON. 

Shirley  &  Hyde,  Printers. 
1830. 


DISTRICT  OF  MAINE,  TO  WIT : 

DISTRICT  CLERK'S  OFFICI:. 
|3E  IT  REMEMBERED,  That  on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  February,  A.  D. 

1830,  and  io  the  fifty-fourth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of 
America,  Mrs.  Ann  L  I'ayson,  of  said  District,  has  deposited  in  this  ofiice  the 
title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof  she  claims  as  Proprietor,  in  the  words  follow- 
ing, to  wit : 

"  A  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Edward  Payson,  D.  D.  late  Pastor  of  the  Second 
Church  in  Portland.  Bene  orasse  est  bene  studaisse.— -ZiUfAer.  Shirley  &  Hyde, 
Printers.  1830." 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled  "  An 
Act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts 
and  books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  ot  such  copies,  during  the  times  there- 
in mentioned  -,"  and  also  to  an  act,  entitled.  An  Acl,  supplementary  to  An 
Act,  entitled,  An  Act  i>\  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies 
of  maps,  charts  and  books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during 
the  times  therein  mentioned;  and  for  extending  the  benefits  tnereof  to  the  arts 
of  designing,  engraving  and  etching  historical  and  otlier  piints." 

J.  MUS9EY,  Clerk  of  the  District  of  Maine. 

A  true  copy  as  of  record, 

Attest.        J.  MUS8EY,  Clerk  D.  C.  Maine. 


i 


TO  THE 


SECOND  CBVRCB  AND  CONGREGATION 

m  PORTLAND, 

THIS  MEMORIAL  OF  THEIR 

DECEASED  PASTOR 

is  affectionately  inscribed,  with 
the  fervent  prayer, 
that,  by  it 
HE, 

Whose  unceasinff  solicitude  for  their  spiritual  welfare  manifested 
itself  by  his  importURate  intercessions, 
earnest  expostulations,  and 
holy  example, 
in  health, 
in  sickness,  and 
on  the  bed  of  death, 
may  yet  speak  effectually,  and,  through  the 
Divine  blessing,  excite  them  to  be 

followers  of  those  who 
through  faith  and  patience  inherit 
the  promises, 

by  their  greatly  obliged, 

A.  L,.  PAYSON. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  following  pages  have  been  prepared  under  the 
direction,  and  at  the  expense  of  the  subscriber,  by  a 
common  friend  to  her  family  and  the  church  of  God. 
The  fullest  reliance  may  be  placed  on  the  general  ac- 
curacy of  the  work,  in  regard  to  all  matters  of  fact. 
Wherever  opinions  are  expressed,  they  will  be  receiv- 
ed, as  in  all  other  cases,  for  what  they  are  worth.  In 
giving  this  volume  to  the  world,  she  has  acted  from  the 
full  persuasion,  that  it  will  aid  the  advancement  of  that 
cause,  which  absorbed  the  affections  and  commanded 
the  best  exertions  of  the  beloved  friend,  whose  history 
it  records.  It  is  her  earnest  wish  that  it  may  suffer  no 
mutilation  or  abridgment,  without  her  consent.  She 
has  done  what  she  could  to  place  it  within  the  reach  of 
all,  by  fixing  the  price  lower,  if  she  has  been  rightly  in- 
formed, than  that  of  any  other  original  work  of  the 
same  size  and  character.  She  is  willing  to  listen  to 
any  suggestions  for  its  improvement,  if  it  should  be  so 
favorably  received,  as  to  create  a  demand  for  a  second 
impression ;  but  should  feel  wronged  by  any  alteration, 
under  any  pretence,  which  was  not  authorized  by  her- 


vi 

self.  It  would  be  aa  infringement  of  the  right  of  her 
orphan  children.  This  is,  indeed,  a  minor  considera- 
tion ;  but  one,  which,  perhaps,  is  in  her  situation  enti- 
tled to  some  regard. 

The  allusions  to  herself,  in  the  course  of  the  volume, 
render  it  a  delicate  office  for  her  to  vouch  for  the  strict 
fidelity  of  all  its  statements.  In  regard  to  these  allu- 
sions, the  biographer  asserted  an  independent  right,  and 
for  them  he  is  responsible. 

A.  L.  PAYSON 

February  1830. 


In  preparing  this  Memoir,  I  have  been  constantly  op- 
pressed by  a  sense  of  the  extreme  delicacy  of  my  task,  aj^ 
well  as  of  its  responsibility.  This  proceeded,  in  part, 
from  the  nature  of  the  materials  of  which  the  work  is 
composed.  It  has  been  found  a  very  serious  and  difficult 
question,  how  far  it  is  justifiable  to  submit  to  the  inspec- 
tion of  good  and  bad,  indiscriminately,  the  records  of 
one's  private  exercises,  which  were  never  intended  to  be 
seen  out  of  the  closet ;  nor  even  there,  except  by  the  wri- 
ter only.  As  religion  is  so  much  the  business  of  the  clo- 
set, it  is  evident  that  no  man's  Christian  character  can  be 
fully  developed  without  exhibiting  the  transactions  of 
that  sacred  retreat.  Disclosures  of  this  class  have  been 
highly  prized  by  the  Christian  community,  generally  ;  and 
God  himself  seems  to  have  set  the  seal  of  his  approbation 
upon  them,  by  rendering  them  the  frequent  occasion  of 


vii 


exciting  and  cherishing  religious  affections.  Were  it  not 
for  these  and  similar  considerations  I  should  have  felt 
painful  misgivings  on  exposing,  as  it  were,  to  the  public 
gaze,  the  recesses  of  a  heart  so  deeply,  and  variously  af- 
fected, as  was  that  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir.  I  hope, 
however,  that  there  is  no  wanton  exposuie.  Nor  shall  I 
be  thought  to  have  been  very  profuse  with  this  portion  of 
the  materials,  when  it  is  seen,  that  only  a  small  part  of 
the  memoir  has  been  drawn  from  the  six  manuscript  vol- 
umes of  his  Diary. 

It  has  been  my  first  care  to  give  a  faithful  history ,  and 
not  to  delineate  a  perfect  character.  I  am  not  aware 
that  any  deductions  or  abatements  from  the  following  ac- 
count, need  to  be  made  on  the  ground  of  personal  friend- 
.ship  or  partiality.  I  have  rather  feared  that  my  anxiety 
to  copy  scriptural  models,  which  describe  the  faults  of 
good  men  with  the  same  unshrinking  fidelity,  that  they 
embalm  their  virtues,  may  have  led  me  to  throw  too  much 
of  shade  into  the  picture, — to  dwell  at  disproportionate 
length  on  those  points  which  cannot  be  contemplated 
without  sadness. 

This  book  is  what  the  reviewers  would  call  a  '  monu- 
mental memoir,  the  object  of  which  is  to  preserve  as  much 
as  possible  the  very  lineaments  and  appearance  of  the 
individual ;  to  embalm,  not  to  dissect  his  remains.*  It 
is  a  book  of  this  class  that  our  Christian  community  have 
been  expecting  ;  nor  are  they,  at  present,  prepared  to 
appreciate  one  on  a  different  model.  I  have  endeavored 
so  to  arrange  and  dispose  of  the  materials,  as  to  give 


Vlll 

something  of  system  to  the  work.  If  the  reader  should 
find  a  recurrence  of  the  same  topics,  he  will  readily  excuse 
it,  on  learning  that  this  infelicity,  or  import  cUt  omissions, 
were  unavoidable.  The  truth  is,  materials,  which  were 
furnished  at  first  with  a  most  disheartening  parsimony, 
continued  to  flow  in,  till  the  last  sheet  of  the  book  went 
to  press.  Those  friends,  who  may  not  meet  with  their 
contributions  in  these  pages,  will  generally  find  an  equiv- 
alent in  some  other  form. 

The  appearance  of  the  volume  has  been  delayed  be- 
yond the  public  expectation.  This  is  to  be  attributed 
not  so  much  to  dilatoriness  in  its  actual  preparation,  as 
to  the  unaccountable  delay  of  some,  and  the  total  neglect 
of  others,  to  communicate  facts,  which  were  essential  to 
any  tolerable  completeness  of  the  narrative.  Disappoint- 
ments of  this  kind  have  been  very  discouraging,  and  in 
some  instances  have  arisen  from  sources,  whence  they 
were  least  of  all  expected.  There  have  been  gratifying 
exceptions  ;  and  all,  whose  contributions  have  enriched 
these  pages,  will  accept  the  thanks  of  the 

CoMPILEU. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Page. 

Uses  of  religious  biography.  Birth  of  Edward 
Payson — His  early  impressions ;  intellectual  quali' 
ties ;  filial  and  fraternal  conduct ;  moral  charac- 
ter— His  literary  education  :  enters  Harvard  Col- 
lege ;  his  reputation  there.       -       -       -       -  13 


CHAPTER  II. 

Comprising  a  period  of  three  years  from  the  time  of 
his  leaving  college.       -  25 


CHAPTER  III. 

His  religious  history  during  the  period  embraced  in 
tlie  preceding  chapter.      -       -       -       .  . 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Retires  to  Rindge,  and  devotes  himself  exclusively  to 
his  preparation  for  the  ministry .      -       -       -  77 


CHAPTER  V. 


His  state  of  mind  in  the  immediate  prospect  of  the 
ministry.  .......98 


X 


CHAPTER  VI. 


His  first  efforts  as  a  preacher — His  religious  cha- 
racter further  developed.       -       -       •       -  110 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Visits  Portland — his  favorable  reception,  and  Or- 
dination.      .......  128 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

His  concern  for  his  fiock — reverse  in  his  temporal 
prospects — is  taken  from  his  work  by  sickness.  145 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Resumes  his  pastoral  labors — letters — review  of  the 
year.        •        .....        .  159 


CHAPTER  X. 

His  dependance  on  God — its  influence  on  himself  and 
church — His  uniform  purpose  to  know  nothing, 
save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified — illustration 
— Letters — resolutions — increased  success.       -  176 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Permanency  and  strength  of  maternal  injiuence — 
Correspondence — Death-bed  anguish,  how  allevi- 
ated— Disgraceful  incident — Price  of  popularity 
— Reasons  of  former  trials  developed — Lctters,Sfc.  196 


zi 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Holy  aspirations — gratitude  to  the  Saviour — multi- 
plied labors — Novel  family  scene — Danger  avert' 
ed — "  Curious  frame" — -flattery  deprecated — His 
marriage — Becomes  sole  pastor  of  the  church — 
Retrospect  of  the  year.       -        -       -        -  210 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Forms  of  prayer —  Thoughts  on  public  prayer — His 
sincerity — the  importance  of  this  quality  to  a  min- 
ister's success.  -       -       -  229 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TJie  Pastor  in  action — Methods  of  exciting,  sustain- 
ing, and  extending  a  due  interest  in  religious  con- 
cerns— Preaching,  administration  of  ordinances, 
Church  Fast,  Conference,  Inquiry  Meetings.  253 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  same  subject — Bible  class — pastoral  visits — so- 
cial parties — special,  and  casual  interviews — charm 
of  his  conversation — singular  rencontre — whence 
his  competency — his  publications.       -        -  282 


CHAPTER  XVT. 

His  exertions  without  the  bounds  of  his  parish — Tn- 
fiuence  on  his  ministerial  associates — in  resuscita- 
ting and  edifying  other  churches —  Visits  "  The 
Springs" — effect  of  his  example,  conversation,  and 
prayers  on  other  visiters — Excursions  in  behalf  of 
Charitable  Societies — Translation  of  ministers- 
He  is  invited  to  Boston  and  New-  York.       -  299 


xii 

CHAPTER  XTII. 

Letters  to  persons  in  various  circumstances  and  states 
of  mind.  316 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

His  private  character.  His  affections  and  demeanor, 
as  a  husband,  father ,  master,  friend.  His  grati- 
tude, economy,  generosity.  His  temper  of  mind 
tinder  injuries.  -       -       -       -      -  339 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Further  particulars  relating  to  his  personal  history , 
and  religious  exercises,  in  connection  with  his  pas- 
toral labors,  and  their  results.       -      -      -  357 


CHAPTER  XX. 

His  last  labors. — His  spiritual  joys,  heavenly  coun- 
sels, and  brightening  intellect,  during  the  progress 
of  his  disease — his  triumphant  exit. — Conclusion.  394 


MEMOIR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

U^es  of  religious  hiography.  Birth  of  Echimrd  Pay  son 
— His  early  impressions  ;  inti  lUttual  qualities  ;  Jilial 
and  f rater aul  t  onduet ;  moral  eliaraet(  r — His  literary 
education:  enters  Harvard  College;  his  reputation  there. 

If,  as  it  has  been  well  observed,  "the  memorials  of  the 
good  constitute  one  of  the  most  sacred  possessions  of  the 
Church  of  Christ," — there  is  an  obligation,  resting  on 
«ach  successive  generation  of  her  children,  to  perpetuate 
those  living  evidences  of  Christianity,  which  have  been 
exhibited  by  their  most  distinguished  cotemporaries.  It 
is  not  submitted  to  our  choice,  whether,  or  not,  we  will 
preserve  and  hand  down  the  characters  of  such,  as  have 
been  eminent  in  their  day  for  the  savor  and  strength  of 
their  piety,  the  ardor  and  steadfastness  of  their  devotion, 
the  consistency  and  power  of  their  example,  and  the  abun- 
dance and  success  of  their  labors  in  the  cause  of  their  cru- 
cified King  ;  the  duty  is  imperative.  Nor  does  the  value 
of  a  mere  human  example  depend  upon  its  freedom  from 
imperfection,  so  mucii  as  upon  the  degree  of  resistance, 
which  its  original  has  overcome  in  his  progress  towards 
'  the  mark  of  our  high  calling.'  To  secure  the  object  con- 
templated by  such  a  memorial,  it  is  not  necessary  to  hold 
up  the  character  as  faultless, — nor  even  to  magnify  its 
excellencies,  or  extenuate  its  defects.  A  strict  adherence 
to  truth,  and  a  just  representation  of  facts,  will  not  only  be 
safest  for  man,  but  most  effectually  exalt  the  grace  of  God. 
That  apostle,  who  labored  more  abundantly  than  his  fel- 
lows, recognises  it  as  among  the  causes,  why  he  had. 


14 


MEMOIR  OF 


obtained  mercy,  who  was  before  a  blasphemer,  and  a  per- 
secutor, and  injurious, — that  he  'miglit  be  a  pattern  to 
them,  who  should  hereafter  believe.'  The  heart,  alive  to 
its  guilt  and  wretchedness,  would  sink  in  everlasting  des- 
pondency, if  it  might  not  revert  to  the  '  chief  of  sinners,' 
as  among  the  number  whom  Christ  came  to  save,  and  who 
have  actually  obtained  salvation.  The  discouragements  ari- 
sing from  inbred  sin,  in  all  its  countless  varieties  of  opera- 
tion, would  depress  the  christian  almost  beyond  recovery, 
but  for  the  recorded  experience  of  others,  weighed  down 
by  the  pressure  of  similar  burdens,  who  finally  came  off 
conquerors,  'through  Him  who  loved  them.'  From  the 
'great  fight  of  afflictions,' which  his  elder  brethren,  who 
have  preceded  him  in  the  weary  pilgrimage,  have '  endured,' 
and  the  terrible  conflicts  with  passion  and  temptation, 
which  they  have  survived,  he  may  learn,  that  his  case  is 
not  singular;  that,  however  fiery  the  trial,  to  which  he  is 
subjected,  still '  no  strange  thing  hath  happened  unto  him.' 
There  is  no  unholy  bias  of  the  heart,  no  easily  besetting 
sin,  no  violence  of  passion,  no  force  of  temptation,  which 
has  not  been  vanquished  by  faith  in  things  unseen ;  and 
that  too,  in  circumstances  as  unfavorable  to  victory,  as 
any  in  which  men  now  are,  or,  probably,  ever  will  be 
placed.  Enemies,  as  virulent  and  formidable,  as  any  that 
lie  in  wait  for  our  souls,  have  been  successfully  resisted, — 
trials  as  disheartening  and  struggles  as  desperate  as  any 
that  await  our  faith,  have  been  met,  sustained,  surmounted, 
by  men  'of  like  passions  with  ourselves.'  'Out  of  the 
depths  they  cried  unto  the  Lord,  and  were  heard  ;  they 
overcame  through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.' 

Nor  will  the  benefit  be  limited  to  the  fervent  believer, 
in  his  spiritual  conflicts.  These  monumental  records  will 
meet  the  eye  of  him,  who  'has  a  name  to  live  while  he  is 
dead ;'  and  they  are  adapted,  beyond  most  other  means, 
to  break  his  fatal  slumber,  to  excite  salutary  apprehen- 
sions in  his  mind,  and  fasten  there  the  unwelcome,  but 
needful  conviction,  that  he  has  'neither  part  nor  lot'  in 
the  Christian's  inheritance.  The  marked  contrast,  which 
he  cannot  fail  to  observe,  between  the  operations  of  a  mind 
animated  by  the  Spirit  and  glowing  with  the  love  of  God, 
and  those  of  which  he  is  himself  conscious ; — between  the 
moral  achievements  of  a  man,  carried  forward  by  the 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


15 


Steady  energies  of  a  purifying  faith,  and  the  few  and  slug- 
gish efforts,  which  till  up  his  own  history, — can  hardly 
fail  to  reveal  him  to  himself,  as  one  '  weighed  in  the  bal- 
ance and  found  wanting.'  He  reads  of  exertions,  which 
he  never  put  forth ;  of  humiliation  and  self-denial  which 
he  never  practised  ;  of  confessions,  which  his  heart  never 
dictated ;  of  exercises,  which  he  never  experienced ;  of 
hopes  and  prospects,  by  which  his  own  bosom  was  never 
gladdened.  In  the  character  of  the  determined  christian, 
he  discerns  a  renunciation  of  self,  and  a  godly  jealousy 
over  the  workings  of  the  heart  naturally  deceitful  above 
all  things,  which  are  totally  at  war  with  his  own  self-con- 
fidence. He  learns,  that,  under  all  varieties  of  outward 
condition,  self-mortification  is  still  an  eminent  character- 
istic of  the  follower  of  Christ ;  that  no  man,  who  warreth, 
entangleth  himself  with  the  affairs  of  this  world  ;  that  the 
expectant  of  tlie  crown  of  righteousness  is  no  more  ex- 
empted from  the  agonizing  strife  to  obtain  it,  than  he  was 
in  the  days  of  primitive  Christianity.  In  the  modern  be- 
liever, if  his  faith  be  not  'dead,'  you  identify  the  grand 
features  of  that  religion,  which  sanctified,  controlled,  and 
supported  apostles  and  martyrs. 

The  uses  of  religious  biography  extend  further  still.  It 
is  the  means  under  God  of  attaching  to  the  cause  of  Zioji, 
men  of  great  energy,  and  moral  worth, — magnanimous  in 
purpose,  wise  in  counsel,  vigorous  and  persevering  in 
action.  In  how  many,  who  have  done  valiantly  for  the 
truth,  has  the  flame  of  holy  zeal  and  enterprise  been  first 
kindled  at  the  pages,  which  record  the  religious  experi- 
ence and  evangelical  labors  of  Baxter,  Brainerd,  Dod- 
dridge, Martyn,  and  others  of  a  kindred  rpirit, — who,  but 
for  these  memorials,  would  have  been  lost  to  the  church 
of  Christ,  and  perhaps  have  become  her  most  determined 
foes.  The  '  children  of  this  world'  understand  the  influ- 
ence of  such  writings,  and  wisely  preserve  every  thing 
that  is  memorable  in  their  heroes,  philosophers,  poets, 
and  artists,  that  youth  may  emulate  their  enthusiasm,  and 
act  over  their  achievements.  And  though  it  may  be  true, 
that  "  modern  biography  has  been  too  busily  and  curiously 
employed  in  enrolling  and  blazoning  names,  which  will 
scarcely  outlive  the  records  of  the  grave-stone  ;"  still,  "it 
is  not  easy  to  estimate  the  loss,  which  is  sustained  by  the 


1(3 


]»EMOIR  OF 


Christian  community,  when  an  example  of  eminent  sanc- 
tity and  heroic  zeal  is  defrauded  of  its  just  honors ,  when 
a  living  epistle  of  apostolic  piety  is  suffered  to  perish;  or, 
to  change  the  figure,  when  the  lamp  kindled  by  a  holy 
life,  which  might  have  shone  to  posterity,  is  suffered  to 
go  out." 

If  christians  in  the  ordinary  walks  of  life,  need  the 
stimulus  of  such  examples,  much  more  does  the  minister 
of  the  cross.  He  has  his  full  portion  in  the  trials  and 
discouragements,  that  are  common  to  all  believers ;  and 
his  mind  is  also  familiar  with  causes  for  "  great  heaviness 
and  sorrow  of  heart,"  in  which  they  can  but  feebly  sym- 
pathise. In  addition  to  his  own  personal  security,  he  is 
in  a  manner  responsible  for  that  of  his  flock.  Besides 
working  out  his  own  salvation,  the  care  of  others'  souls 
bears  upon  him  with  a  pressure,  which  none  can  conceive 
who  has  not  felt  its  weight.  And  when  he  has  toiled  long 
and  hard,  with  little  or  no  visible  success,  and  is  tempted 
to  exclaim — "it  is  a  vain  thing  to  serve  the  Lord  !" — or, 
when,  exhausted  by  continued  labor,  and  racked  by  bodily 
infirmities,  he  is  in  danger  of  regarding  himself  as  ex- 
empted from  the  obligation  to  make  any  further  exertions; 
it  may  preserve  him  from  sinking,  and  stimulate  him  to 
new  action,  to  know  that  his  fellow  laborers  in  the  king- 
dom and  patience  of  Jesus,  have  then  been  most  singu- 
larly blessed,  when  they  thought  themselves  forsaken ; 
have  out  of  weakness  been  made  strong,  and,  under  the 
endurance  of  great  physical  debility  and  the  most  ex- 
quisite mental  anguish,  gained  the  most  splendid  trophies 
under  the  Captain  of  Salvation.  Can  the  "cloud  of  wit- 
nesses" of  this  description  be  too  much  increased  for  the 
'  consideration'  of  those,  who  are  '  wearied  and  faint  in 
their  minds?'  Can  any,  to  whom  God  affords  the  oppor- 
tunity, be  excusable  in  Jieglecting  to  erect  an  additional 
monument  in  the  "  temple  of  Christianity,"  and  to  conduct 
thither  the  desponding,  though  uniformly  faithful  minis- 
ter, where  he  may  behold  "  the  names,  and  the  statues, 
and  the  recorded  deeds,  of  the  heroes  of  the  church,  and 
the  spoils  they  have  won  in  the  battles  of  the  Lord  V 

It  is  with  such  views  alone,  that  the  present  work  is  at- 
tempted. The  hope,  that  good  results  will  be  realized,  is 
not  the  less  confident,  because  the  materials  to  which  ac- 


liliWARD  PAYSON. 


17 


cess  has  been  had,  are  of  the  least  imposing  pretensions. 
It  promises  little  of  incident,  or  adventure, — qualities, 
which  with  many  constitute  the  principal  attractions  of  a 
book.  It  is  the  history  of  a  single  mind,  ratiier  than  of  a 
community  ;  of  a  pastor — whose  sphere  of  labor  was  chiefly 
limited  to  his  parochial  charge — not  a  missionary,  whose 
"  field  is  the  world  and  who  has  traversed  seas  and  con- 
tinents, and  associated  his  own  history  with  that  of  differ- 
ent climates  and  governments,  and  opinions.  The  Chris- 
tian hero  will  not  here  be  presented  in  direct  collision  with 
the  principalities  and  powers  of  this  world,  whether  Pagan 
or  Papal  ;  but  in  an  attitude  not  less  generally  instructive, 
that  of  one,  "  whose  warfare  is  within,"  and  who  success- 
fully applied  the  results  of  his  agonizing  and  joyful  experi- 
ence in  training, 

by  every  rule 
Of  holy  discipline,  to  gloi  ious  war. 
The  sacramental  host  of  God's  elect. 

But  he  will  shine  with  the  brightness  of  one,  who  has  turn- 
ed many  to  righteousness,  in  that  world,  where  the  judg- 
ment of  character,  and  the  estimate  of  services,  are  accord- 
ing to  truth,  and  not  affected  by  what  is  dazzling  in  the 
stations  or  circumstances,  in  which  men  have  acted. 


Edward  Payson  was  born  at  Rindge,  New  Hampshire, 
July  25th,  1783.  His  father  was  the  Rev.  Seth  Payson, 
D.  D.  pastor  of  the  church  in  Rindge,  a  man  of  piety  and 
public  spirit,  distinguished  as  a  clergyman  and  favorably 
known  as  an  author.  Ilis  mother,  Grata  Payson,  was  a 
distant  relative  of  her  husband,  their  lineage,  after  being 
traced  back  a  few  generations,  meeting  in  the  same  stock. 
To  the  Christian  fidelity  of  these  parents  there  is  the  full- 
est testimony  in  the  subsequent  and  repeated  acknowledge- 
ments of  their  son,  who  habitually  attributed  his  religious 
hopes,  as  well  as  his  usefulness  in  life,  under  God,  to  their 
instructions,  example,  and  prayers — especially  those  of  his 
mother.  She  appears  to  have  admitted  him  to  the  most 
intimate,  unreserved,  and  confiding  intercourse,  which  w;.s 
yet  so  wisely  conducted  as  to  strengthen  r  .ther  than 
diminish  his  filial  reverence  ;  to  have  cherished  a  remark- 
able inquisitiveness  of  mind,  which  early  discovered  itself 
2* 


18 


MF.MOIR  OP 


in  him  ;  and  to  have  patiently  heard  and  replied  to  the 
almost  endless  inquiries,  which  his  early  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge led  him  to  propose.  His  father  was  not  less  really 
and  sincerely  interested  for  the  welfare  of  his  son  ;  but 
from  the  nature  of  the  relation  and  the  calls  of  official  duty, 
his  opportunities  must  have  been  less  frequent  and  his  in- 
structions have  partaken  of  a  more  set  and  formal  charac- 
ter. With  the  mother,  however,  opportunities  were  always 
occurring,  and  she  seems  to  have  been  blessed  with  the 
faculty  and  di^;position  to  turn  them  to  the  best  advantage. 
Edward's  recollections  of  her  extended  back  to  very  early 
childhood  ;  and  he  has  been  heard  to  say,  that  though  she 
was  very  solicitous,  that  he  might  be  liberally  educated, 
and  receive  every  accomplishment,  which  would  increase 
his  respectability  and  influence  in  the  world,  yet  he  could 
distinctly  see,  that  the  supreme,  the  all-absorbing  concern 
of  her  soul  respecting  him,  was,  that  he  might  become  a 
child  of  God.  This  manifested  itself  in  her  discipline,  her 
counsels,  expostulations,  and  prayers,  which  were  followed 
up  with  a  perseverance,  that  nothing  could  check.  And 
they  were  not  in  vain.  From  the  first  developement  of 
his  moral  po  .vers,  his  mind  was  more  or  less  affected  by  his 
condition  and  prospects  as  a  sinner.  It  is  among  the  ac- 
credited traditions  of  his  family,  that  he  was  often  known 
to  weep  under  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  when  only  three 
years  old.  About  this  period  too,  he  would  frequently  call 
his  mother  to  his  bed-side  to  converse  on  religion,  and  to 
answer  numerous  questions  respecting  his  relations  to  God 
and  the  future  world.  How  long  this  seriousness  continued 
or  to  what  interruptions  it  was  subjected  does  not  clearly 
appear,  nor  is  much  known  as  to  the  peculiar  character  of 
his  exercises  at  that  time.  But  that  they  were  not  mere 
transient  impressions,  seems  highly  probable  from  the 
fact,  that,  in  subsequent  years,  his  mother  was  inclined  to 
the  belief,  that  he  was  converted  in  childhood.  There 
was  some  other  cause  than  maternal  partiality  for  this 
©pinion,  as  she  did  not  cherish  it  alone.  Besides  his  in- 
timate friends  have  reason  for  believing,  that  he  never 
neglected  secret  prayer  while  a  resident  in  his  father's 
family.  The  evidences  of  his  piety,  however,  were,  at  this 
period,  far  from  being  conclusive  ;  he,  at  least,  does  not 
appear  to  have  regarded  them  as  such  ;  neither  were  they 


EDWARD  PAYSON'. 


10 


so  regarded  by  his  father,  who  on  this  account  hesitated 
to  send  him  to  college  for  months,  if  not  years,  after  his 
academical  preparation  was  completed. 

How  far  those  mental  qualities,  wliich  distinguished  Dr. 
Payson's  maturity,  were  apparent  in  his  early  days,  cannot 
now  be  known  ;  lor  though  he  died  comparatively  young, 
his  parents  had  gone  beibre  him,  and  their  surviving 
children  were  all  younger  than  this  son.  Strictly  speak- 
ing, therefore,  no  companion  of  his  childhood  survives. 
The  very  few  incidents  belonging  to  this  period  of  his  his- 
tory, which  have  escaped  oblivion,  though  not  adequate  to 
satisfy  curiosity,  are  on  the  whole  characterit^tic.  When 
about  six  years  of  age,  he  rode  one  horse,  and  led  another 
at  the  same  time,  a  distance  of  twenty  miles — no  trifling 
adventure  for  a  child,  and  no  doubtful  indication  that  his 
well  known  energy,  and  perseverance  had  already  dawned. 

That  he  was  a  minute  observer  of  nature,  and  highly 
susceptible  of  emotions  from  the  grand  and  beautiful  in 
the  handy  works  of  God,  must  be  obvious  to  all,  who  have 
listened  to  his  conversation  or  his  preaching.  His  taste 
for  the  sublime  very  early  discovered  itself  During  a 
tempest  he  might  be  seen  exposed  on  the  top  of  the  fence 
or  some  other  eminence,  wliile  the  lightnings  played  and 
the  thunders  rolled  around  him,  sitting  in  delightful  com- 
posure, and  enjoying  the  sublimity  of  the  scene.* 

He  is  said  to  have  manifested  an  early  predilection  for 
arithmetic ;  and  was  a  tolerable  proficient  in  the  art  of 
reading  at  the  age  of  four  years — an  art,  which  no  man 

*  Beanie's  Minstrel,  it  seems,  is  not  a  mere  creature  of  the  im- 
agination : 

And  oft  the  craa;gy  cliff  he  loved  to  climb, 

W  lien  all  in  mist  the  world  below  was  lost. 

What  dreadful  pleasure  !  there  to  stand  suldime, 

Like  shipwrecked  mariner  on  desert  coast, 

And  view  th'  enormous  waste  of  vapor,  tost 

In  billows,  lengthening  to  th'  liorizon  round, 

Now  scooped  in  gulfs,  with  mountain-j  now  emboss'd  ! 

And  hear  the  voice  of  mi'th  and  song  rebound, 

Flocks,  heids,  and  waterfalls,  along  the  hoar  profound  ■! 

In  truth  he  was  a  strange  and  wayward  wight. 
Fond  of  each  gentle,  and  each  dreadf  ul  scene. 
In  darkness  and  in  storm  he  found  delight. 


20 


MEMOIR  OF 


ever  employed  to  better  advantage.  The  surprising  quick- 
ness, with  wiiich  he  would  transfer  to  his  own  inmd  the 
contents  of  a  book,  at  a  time  when  a  new  book  was  a 
greater  rarity  tiian  it  now  is,  threatened  to  exhaust  his 
sources  of  inforsnation  through  tliis  medium.  All  the 
booKS  in  his  father's  collection,  and  the  "  Parish  Library," 
which  were  of  a  character  suited  to  his  age  and  attain- 
ments, were  read,  before  he  lett  the  paternal  home  ;  and 
retained  with  such  tenacity  of  memory,  as  to  be  ever  after 
available  for  illustrating  trutlis,  or  enlivening  and  embel- 
lishing discourse. 

It  is  natural  to  inquire,  whether  there  was  any  thing  in 
the  circumstances  of  his  early  youth,  which  will  account 
for  his  mental  habits,  and  especially  the  rapidity  of  his  in- 
tellectual operations.  A  partial  answer  may  be  found  in 
the  fact,  that  his  time  was  divided  between  labor  and  study. 
His  father,  like  most  ministers  of  country  parishes,  deri- 
ved the  means  of  supporting  his  family,  in  part,  from  a 
farm,  which  his  sons  assisted  in  cultivating.  From  his 
share  in  these  agricultural  labors  the  subject  of  this  memoir 
was  not  exempted,  particularly  in  the  "  busy  seasons"  of 
the  year.  But  whatever  were  his  employment,  though  he 
appears  to  have  engaged  in  it  with  cheerfulness  and  to 
have  prosecuted  it  with  fidelity,  his  thirst  for  knowledge 
was  the  ruling  passion  of  his  soul.  This  he  sought  to 
quench,  or  rather  to  cherish,  by  resorting  to  his  book  at 
every  interval  from  toil,  however  short,  when  he  tasked  his 
mind  to  the  utmost  of  its  power,  intent  on  making  the 
greatest  possible  acquisition  in  a  given  time.  His  mind, 
though  strung  up  to  the  higiiest  pitch  of  exertion  at  these 
seasons,  suffered  no  injury  thereby,  as  it  was  so  soon  di- 
verted from  its  employment  by  a  call  to  the  field  ;  and 
every  repetition  of  the  process  extended  its  capability  and 
power.  The  acquisitions  in  this  way  obtained  furnished 
materials,  on  which  to  employ  the  thoughts  while  engaged 
in  manual  labor,  which  he  would  not  fail  to  digest  and  lay 
up  in  store  for  future  use, — a  voluntary  discipline  of  most 
auspicious  influence,  as  it  respects  the  facility  of  acquiring 
knowledge,  and  the  power  of  retaining  it. 

His  early  literary,  as  well  as  moral  and  religious  educa- 
tion is  believed  to  have  been  conducted  principally  by  his 
parents,  except  the  studies  preparatory  to  college,  which 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


21 


were  pursued,  in  part  at  least,  at  the  Academy  in  New 
Ipswicli.  After  his  preparatory  course  was  completed,  his 
father  delayed  sending  him  to  college,  assigning  as  the 
reason,  that  he  saw  in  him  no  certain  indications  of  spe- 
cial seriousness,  and  could  not,  therefore,  consistently 
educate  him  ;  that  it  were  better,  on  all  accounts,  to  retain 
him  on  the  farm  ;  for,  added  he,  "  to  give  you  a  liberal 
education,  while  destitute  of  religious  principle,  would  be 
like  putting  a  sword  into  the  hands  of  a  madman." 

Whether  the  father  was  led  to  adopt  such  strong  lan- 
guage from  having  observed  in  his  son  the  existence  of 
those  properties,  which,  in  their  future  developement, 
were  to  give  him  such  power  over  his  species ;  or  whether 
it  was  only  the  application  of  what  he  held  as  a  general 
principle, — there  does  not  appear  to  have  been  in  either 
the  disposition  or  conduct  of  the  son  any  particular  cause 
for  his  apprehensions.  His  filial  affection  and  conduct 
had  been,  and  ever  continued  to  be,  most  exemplary,  as 
manifested  by  his  letters  when  absent,  and  by  his  rever- 
ence for  his  parents  and  cheerful  obedience  when  at  home. 
His  fraternal  feelings  were  kind,  and  his  conduct  towards 
his  brothers  and  sisters  faithful  and  aft'ectionate.  By  them 
he  was  greatly  beloved,  and  his  vacations,  when  he  should 
visit  home  and  mingle  again  in  the  domestic  circle,  were 
anticipated  with  delightful  interest,  as  the  halcyon  days 
of  their  lives.  His  moral  character  comes  down  to  us, 
even  from  the  first,  without  a  blemish,  and,  by  consent  of 
all,  he  sustained  the  reputation  of  a  magnanimous,  hon- 
orable, generous  youth. 

His  father's  decision,  however,  was  not  peremptory  and 
unalterable.  Young  Payson  was  indeed  detained  from 
college,  yet  permitted  to  pursue  his  studies, —  but  wheth- 
er exclusively,  or  in  connection  with  other  employments, 
does  not  appear, — till  lie  was  fitted  to  join  the  Sophomore 
class  ;  when,  all  oi)jections  being  waived,  he  entered  Har- 
vard College  at  an  advanced  standing,  at  tlie  commence- 
ment in  1800,  about  the  time  he  completed  his  seventeenth 
year. 

He  had  now  a  new  ordeal  to  pass — a  severe  test  for 
both  his  talents  and  character.  Many  a  youtli,  who  was 
regarded  as  a  prodigy  of  genius  in  his  native  parish,  or  in 
a.  country  village,  and  who  anticipated  the  same  eminence 


22 


MEMOIR  OF 


at  the  seat  of  science,  has  found  himself  sadly  disappoint- 
ed in  being  obiiircd  to  take  his  ranii  below  mediocrity. 
Thus  it  had  nearly  tared  with  Payson — not  that  he  was 
destitute  of  real  worth,  but  there  were  circumstances, 
which  prevented  that  worth  from  being  appreciated.  The 
first  impressions  respecting  him  were  unfavorable.  '  You 
would  have  taken  him,  says  a  classmate,  for  an  unpolish- 
ed, ignorant  country  lad  ;  exceedingly  modest,  unassum- 
ing, and  reserved  in  his  manners.  And  as  we  generally 
look  for  a  long  time  at  the  words  and  actions  of  a  charac- 
ter through  the  same  medium,  by  which  he  was  first  pre- 
sented to  us,  his  merit  was  for  a  long  time  unknown.' 
This  judging  from  appearances  is,  perhaps,  unavoidable, 
though  often  very  injurious.  In  the  greenness  of  his 
youth,  Mr.  Payson's  modesty  might  easily  be  mistaken  for 
bashfulness  ;  as  through  life  he  had  much  of  a  downcast 
look,  holding  his  eyes  inclined  to  the  earth,  except  when 
warmly  engaged  in  conversation  ;  then  they  would  beam 
most  expressively  ;  and  when  addressing  an  audience  from 
the  pulpit,  they  would  "  pry  through  the  portals  of  the 
head,"  and  give  a  thrilling  emphasis  to  the  language  of 
his  lips. 

Mr.  Payson's  classmate,  just  quoted,  and  who  also  oc- 
cupied the  same  rooms  with  him  during  the  whole  period 
of  his  residence  at  college,  bears  decided  testimony  to  the 
purity  of  his  morals,  and  the  regularity  of  his  habits,  as 
well  as  other  estimable  qualities.  With  his  intimate  fi-iends 
he  was  social,  communicative,  and  peculiarly  interesting 
and  improving,  and  by  those,  who  best  knew  him,  was 
much  beloved.  He  was  distinguished  for  his  industry ; 
his  first  care  always  was  to  get  his  lesson,  which  engaged 
him  but  a  short  time,  and  then  he  would  resume  his  read- 
ing. He  was  invariably  prepared  to  meet  his  instructer, 
prompt  in  reciting,  and  seldom  committed  a  mi.stake. 
His  manner  of  rehearsing  was  rapid,  his  tone  of  voice  low, 
with  a  kind  of  instinctive  shrinking  from  every  thing, 
which  had  the  appearance  of  display.  He  seems  to  have 
been  regarded  as  no  more  than  a  decent  scholar  by  his  as- 
sociates and  teachers  generally  at  college  ;  but  "  after 
having  been  with  him  a  few  months,  /  was  convinced  that 
he  possessed  uncommon  mental  powers.  Others  knew 
not  this,  because  they  knew  not  the  man.    During  the 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


23 


latter  part  of  his  collegiate  course,  as  he  became  more 
known,  he  rose  rapidly  in  the  estimation  of  both  the  gov- 
ernment and  his  classmates,  as  a  young  man  of  correct 
morals,  amiable  disposition,  and  respectable  talents." 

The  testimony  of  another  cids-  mate  agrees  with  this  as 
to  the  general  character  of  the  man,  but  is  more  discrim- 
inating and  positive  in  reference  to  his  merits  as  a  scholar. 
"  The  circumstance  of  joining  his  claSS  at  an  advanced 
standing,  combined  with  his  naturally  retiring  and  unob- 
trusive manners,  contributed,  probably,  to  his  being  so 
little  known  to  a  large  portion  of  his  college  cotemporaries, 
who  seemed  scarcely  aware  that  his  talents  were  of  that 
high  order,  by  which  he  was  soon  afterwards  so  eminently 
distinguished.  Yet  even  at  that  early  period  he  mani- 
fested an  energy,  hardihood,  and  perseverance  of  charac- 
ter, which  were  sure  indications  of  success,  in  whatever 
course  he  might  eventually  direct  his  professional  pursuits. 
In  the  regular  course  of  college  studies,  pursued  at  the 
time  of  his  residence  at  Cambridge,  he  maintained  the 
reputation  of  a  respectable  scholar  in  every  branch.  In- 
tellectual and  moral  philosophy  were  more  to  his  taste, 
than  physical  .'cience ;  yet  he  sustained  a  distinguished 
rank  in  the  higher  branches  of  the  mathematics,  as  well 
as  natural  philosophy  and  astronomy,  at  that  time  so  un- 
popular, and  so  little  understood  by  a  large  proportion  of 
tlie  students."  It  is  not  remembered,  however,  that  there 
was  any  public  recognition  of  distinguished  merit  in  him, 
at  the  time  he  commenced  Bachelor  of  Arts. 

The  reputation  of  being  "  a  great  reader,"  as  the  phrase 
is  often  applied,  is  a  very  undesirable  distinction  ;  it  is 
one,  however,  which  Mr.  Payson  bore  in  common  with 
thousands,  who  are  not  the  wiser  for  their  reading.  His 
frequent  resort  to  the  college  library  was  a  theme  of 
raillery  with  his  fellow  students,  who,  at  one  time,  repre- 
sented him  as  having  'a  machine  to  turn  over  the  leaves;' 
and  at  another,  as  '  having  left  off  taking  out  books,  be- 
cause he  had  read  all  the  thousands  in  the  alcoves  of  old 
Harvard.'  Ridicule,  in  his  case,  was  egregiously  misap- 
plied ;  for,  says  his  constant  companion  in  the  study  and 
in  the  dormitory,  "  every  thing  he  read,  he  made  his  own. 
He  had  the  strongest  and  most  tenacious  memory,  I  ever 
knew.  It  is  truly  astonishing  with  what  rapidity  he  could 


24 


MEMOIR  OB 


read  ;  how  soon  he  could  devour  a  large  volume,  and  yet 
give  the  most  particular  and  accurate  account  of  its  con- 
tents." Testimonies  of  the  same  kind  might  be  multiplied, 
and  confirmed  by  many  anecdotes,  which  to  a  stranger 
would  appear  incredible,  illustrating  the  power  of  this 
faculty,  and  the  severity  of  those  tests  to  which  it  has  been 
subjected. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


25 


CHAPTER  II. 

Comprising  a  period  of  three  years  from  the  time  of  his 
leaving  college. 

Mr.  Payson  was  graduated  at  Harvard  University,  at 
the  commencement  in  1803.  Soon  after  leav  ing  college, 
he  was,  on  recommendation,  particularly  of  Professors 
Tappan  and  Pearson,  engaged  to  take  charge  of  the  Acad- 
emy then  recently  established  in  Portland.  He  continued 
in  this  office  for  three  years,  at  the  close  of  which  he  was, 
by  the  terms  of  his  contract,  at  liberty  to  resign  it.  Of 
this  liberty  his  new  views  of  duty,  at  the  time,  disposed 
him  to  avail  himself 

An  employment,  which  requires  the  daily  repetition  of 
nearly  the  same  routine  of  duties,  cannot  be  very  prolific  in 
incident,  or  very  favorable  to  the  developement  of  those 
qualities,  which  attract  the  public  eye.  Nor  is  it  an  em« 
ployment  in  which  real  worth  is  likely  to  be  appreciated, 
except  by  a  very  few  ;  though  the  subject  of  this  memoir 
is  not  thought  to  have  had  any  special  cause  of  complaint, 
as  to  the  estimation  in  which  his  services  were  held.  He 
acquired  and  sustained  a  good  reputation  as  an  instructer  ; 
but  fi-om  a  man  possessing  his  characteristics,  something 
more  would  naturally  be  expected.  He  was  certainly  en- 
dued with  a  rare  faculty  for  communicating  knowledge, 
and  with  a  power  to  awaken,  and  call  into  action  the  men- 
tal energies  of  either  youth  or  manhood.  In  the  existing 
methods  of  education,  however,  there  was  much  to  obstruct 
the  exercise  of  this  power.  The  instructer,  who  should 
do  much  more  than  follow  the  order  and  manner  of  the 
text-books  then  in  use,  would  probably  have  been  regarded 
as  an  empiric  ;  besides,  the  habits  of  society  were  then 
opposed,  more  than  they  have  been  since,  to  every  thing 
which  bore  the  appearance  of  innovation.  His  native  diS 
fidence  also  would  have  operated  as  a  powerful  restraint 
against  venturing  on  any  bold  experiments  in  a  sphere  of 
action  and  duty,  in  which,  judging  from  the  character  and 
3 


26 


MEMOIR  OF 


attainments  of  many  who  had  filled  it,  little  improvement 
was  to  be  expected. 

At  this  period  he  was  but  a  youth  ;  and  it  is  not  to  be 
supposed,  that  he  engaged  in  the  business  of  instruction, 
and  prosecuted  it  with  that  all-absorbing  interest  and  de- 
termination of  purpose,  which  distinguished  his  ministerial 
career.  It  is,  to  say  the  least,  extremely  doubtful,  whether 
he  had  felt  the  influence  on  human  exertion  of  that  prin- 
ciple, which  is  indispensable  to  man's  highest  achievements 
— doing  all  to  the  glory  of  God.  As  it  was,  he  is  remem- 
bered by  surviving  pupils  with  gratitude,  respect,  and  even 
veneration.  He  has  left,  as  will  be  seen,  sufficient  evi- 
dence of  his  deep  solicitude  for  their  moral  and  religious 
welfare,  from  the  time  at  which  he  was  comfortably  assured 
of  his  own  "  acceptance  in  the  Beloved." 

It  would  seem  from  some  allusions  in  his  sermons,  as 
well  as  from  hints  derived  from  other  sources,  that,  during 
the  early  part  of  his  residence  in  Portland,  he  indulged 
himself  in  such  amusements,  as  were  fashionable,  or  were 
considered  reputable,  and  that  too  with  a  gust  as  exquisite, 
as  their  most  hearty  devotee — how  frequently,  or  to  what 
extent,  the  writer  is  ignorant.  This  practice,  if  it  were 
more  than  occasional,  would  indicate  a  relish  for  social 
pleasures,  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  expression,  which  did 
not  long  continue  ;  for  after  his  seriousness  became  hab- 
itual, he  was  averse  to  going  into  company,  even  to  a  fault. 
He  dreaded  an  invitation  to  a  social  party,  though  he  had 
reason  to  expect  nothing  there  directly  offensive  to  religious 
feelings.  But  there  were  companions,  whose  society  he 
sought,  and  whose  intercourse  was  so  regulated  as  to  sub- 
serve mutual  improvement.  Thjey  were  select  literary 
friends,  some  of  them  his  classmates,  whose  fellowship  was 
in  a  high  degree  intimate  and  endearing.  With  these  he 
passed  many  pleasant  and  profitable  hours,  and  cemented 
a  friendship,  which  continued  till  death,  and  which  has 
been  faithfully  reciprocated  by  the  surviving  members  of 
the  little  band,  and  continues  to  exhibit  itself  in  unfeigned 
respect  for  his  precious  memory.  The  exercises  of  these 
meetings  were  not  subjected  to  any  very  rigid  and  formal 
regulations,  such  as  would  have  cramped  the  energies  of 
the  mind,  or  restrained  even  its  wilder  sallies.  Mutual 
confidence  was  the  bond  of  union,  which  no  severitjf  of 


E.DWARD  PAYSON. 


27 


retort  or  piquancy  of  raillery  could  sunder.  Each  brought 
forward  the  results  of  his  reading  or  invention,  and  exer- 
cised his  powers  at  discussion  or  free  conversation  ;  and 
by  this  "  action  of  mind  upon  mind,"  the  most  brilliant 
flashes  of  wit  were  often  struck  from  one  so  full  charged, 
and  so  quick  at  combination,  as  Payson's,  to  the  no  small 
entertainment  of  his  companions.  In  these  divum  cance, 
his  contributions  were  the  most  coveted  and  exquisite  part 
of  the  banquet. 

But  no  distance,  employment,  or  friendships,  could 
weaken  his  attachment  to  the  paternal  home,  or  diminish 
the  strength  of  his  filial  love.  Some  extracts  Ironi  his  let- 
ters will  now  be  given,  which,  while  they  exhibit  the  son 
and  the  brother  in  the  most  amiable  light,  will  serve  also 
to  illustrate  some  of  his  intellectual  qualities.  They  are 
addressed  to  his  "  Ever  Dear  and  Honored  Parents." 

Portland,  May  20,  1804. 
"  It  is  not  the  least  among  the  distressing  circumstances 
attending  the  late  afflicting  dispensation  of  Providence, 
that  I  am  unable  in  person  to  share  in  your  grief,  and  al- 
leviate, by  filial  sympathy  and  aflfection,  the  keenness  of 
your  sorrow.  I  would  fain  attempt  to  afford  you  some 
consolation  ;  but  the  only  sources,  whence  it  can  be  deri- 
ved, are  already  your  own.  I  can  only  say  for  myself — it 
shall  ever  be  my  endeavor,  that,  so  far  as  my  exertions  can 
avail,  you  shall  not  feel  his  loss  ;  and  that  we,  who  remain 
will  strive  to  fill,  by  our  increased  duty,  reverence,  and 
affection,  the  cruel  void  thus  made  in  your  happiness." 

January  14,  1805. 
"  I  congratulate  you  both  on  the  welcome  news,  which 
my  sister  gave  me,  of  your  amended  health  and  spirits. 
Mine  I  feel  flow  with  double  rapidity,  since  I  received  her 
letter.  I  witness,  in  fancy,  the  happiness  of  home,  and 
long  to  participate  and  increase  it  ;  but  for  the  present 
must  be  content  with  rejoicmg  alone.  I  cannot  possibly 
plead  guilty  to  the  charge  of  "  not  thinking  of  home,  so 
often  as  home  does  of  me."  On  the  contrary,  I  believe 
home  has  very  little  due  on  that  score,  if  we  consider  the 
frequency,  and  not  the  value,  of  the  thoughts  But,  my 
dear  Parents,  if  a  few  of  those  thoughts  could  be  embodied 


28 


MEMOIR  OF 


on  paper,  and  s»  nt  me,  how  much  more  good  they  would 
do,  and  how  much  more  pleasure  they  would  communi- 
cate, than  if  they  were  to  remain  in  their  native  place. 

I  am  still  without  an  assistant,  and,  as  the  number  of 
students  has  been  increased,  my  task  is  very  laborious. 
However  I  shall  soon  be  supplied. — Just  now  I  was  inter- 
rupted. It  was  my  assistant.  He  is  young  and  raw  ; 
but  so  much  the  better.  He  will  not  render  me  small  by 
comparison. 

I  had  a  pleasant  vacation.  All  of  my  classmates,  who 
are  in  the  district,  five  in  number,  met  at  the  house  of  one 
of  them.  The  recollection  ol  past  scenes  was,  as  Ossian 
says,  '  pleasant  and  mournful  to  the  soul.'  There  is,  how- 
ever, very  little  satisfaction  in  recalling  past  pleasures  to 
mind  ;  that  is,  what  is  generally  called  pleasure." 

September  8,  1805. 
"  The  distress  I  felt  at  parting  with  you,  was  soon  ban- 
ished by  the  garrulity  of  my  companion,  whose  chatter- 
ing tongue  for  once  afforded  me  pleasure ;  and,  besides, 
freed  me  from  the  necessity  of  talking,  for  which  I  felt 
not  very  well  qualified.  I  once  thought  it  was  impossible 
for  my  filial  affection  to  be  increased ;  but  the  kindness 
which  first  gave  birth  to  it,  increases  every  visit  I  make, 
and  that  must  increase  with  it.  Were  others  blest  with 
friends  like  mine,  how  much  greater  would  be  the  sum  of 
virtue  and  happiness  on  earth,  than  we  have  reason  to  fear 
it  is  at  present.  Why  cannot  other  parents  learn  your 
art  of  mixing  the  friend  with  the  parent  ?  of  joining  friend- 
ship to  filial  affection,  and  of  conciliating  love,  without 
losing  respect? — an  art,  of  more  importance  to  society, 
and  more  difficult  to  learn, — at  least,  if  we  may  judge  by 
the  rareness  with  which  it  is  found — than  any  other ;  and 
an  art,  which  you,  my  dear  parents,  certainly  have  in 
perfection. 

"  We  had  a  tolerably  pleasant  journey,  and  were  re- 
ceived with  kindness  by  Mrs.  ,  and  with  politeness, 

at  least,  by  the  rest  of  the  family.  After  the  others  were 
retired,  Col.   kept  me  up  till  pa.^t  eleven,  explain- 
ing, as  well  as  I  could,  the  difference  between  the  various 
sects  of  religion,  especially  between  Arminians  and  CaJ- 
vinists.    *    *    *  * 


BllWAKl)  PAYSON. 


29 


"  We  had  a  long  passage,  but  met  with  no  accident,  ex- 
cept that  I  carried  away  my  hat — to  use  a  sea-phrase — that 
is,  the  wind  carried  it  away,  and  there  being  no  one  on 
board  that  would  lit  me,  I  was  two  days  on  tlie  water  ex- 
posed to  a  burning  sun,  without  shelter ;  in  consequence, 
ray  face  was  scorched  pretty  severely." 

Scptemher  20,  1805. 
"  I  sadly  suspect  that  this  plan  of  numbering  my  epistles 
will  prove  your  deficiency,  and  njy  attention,  in  a  manner 
very  honorable  to  myself,  and  not  very  much  so  to  my 
good  friends  at  home.  This  is  my  fourth,  and  not  one 
have  I  received,  nor  do  I  expect  one  this  long  time.  How- 
ever, I  say  not  this  by  way  of  complaint.  Your  kindness, 
when  I  was  at  home,  proved  your  affection  beyond  a  doubt; 
and  if  I  should  not  receive  one  letter  this  year,  I  should 
have  no  right  to  complain.  Yet  though  not  of  right,  I 
may  of  favor,  entreat  for  a  few  occasional  tokens  of  re- 
membrance. I  have  as  yet  scarcely  recovered  from  the 
inflation  and  pride  your  goodness  occasioned.  The  atten- 
tion I  received,  led  me  to  suppose  myself  a  person  of  no 
small  consequence ;  however,  a  month's  dieting  on  cold 
civility  and  formal  politeness,  will,  I  hope,  reduce  me  to 
my  former  size.  In  the  mean  time,  I  am  convinced  that 
my  situation  here  is  not  so  much  worse  than  any  other,  as 
I  imagined." 

The  following  letter  describes  a  scene  in  a  stage-coach. 
Those,  who  have  witnessed  the  writer's  unequalled  com- 
mand of  language,  and  power  to  accumulate  facts  and 
imagery  to  give  it  effect,  will  most  readily  conceive  of  the 
overwhelming  torrent  of  satire,  which  he  must  have  poured 
forth  on  the  occasion  described.  Travellers  have  often 
brought  them.selves  into  a  highly  mortifying  dilemma,  by 
allowing  free  licen.se  to  their  tongues  among  strangers. 
It  was  happy  for  the  hero  in  this  adventure,  that  he  ex- 
pended his  forces  upon  a  legitimate  subject  of  raillery. 

Portland,  Oct.  8,  1805. 

"  Mv  DEAREST  FaTHER, 

"  In  hopes  of  rescuing  you  one  moment,  from  the  crowd 
of  cares  and  occupations  which  surround  you,  I  will  give 
3* 


30 


MEMOIR  OF 


you  an  anecdote  of  my  journey,  and  if  you  condescend  to 
smile  over  it,  wliy  so  nmcli  the  better.  When  seated  in  a 
conipany  of  strange  phizzes,  I  immediately  set  myself  to 
decypiier  them,  and  assign  a  character  and  occupation  to 
the  owner  of  each.  But  in  the  stage  which  conveyed  us 
to  B*****,  there  was  one  which  completely  puzzled  me. 
I  could  think  of  no  employment  that  would  tit  it,  except 
that  of  a  *******  representative,  unless  it  was  that  of  a 
**********,  whose  pride  being  confined  in  B.  by  the 
pressure  of  wealth  and  talents,  had  now  room  to  expand 
itself.  A  certain  kind  of  consequential  gravity,  and  pom- 
pous solemnity,  together  with  his  dress,  might  perliaps 
have  impressed  us  with  respect,  had  not  a  pair  of  hard 
callous  hands,  with  crooked  dirty  nails,  lessened  their 
effect.  During  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  he  presented 
me  with  a  paper  which,  on  examination,  I  found  to  be  one 
of  those  quack  advertisements,  which  Mr.  ****  has  hon- 
ored with  his  signature.  Not  suspecting,  in  the  least,  tliat 
the  good  gentleman  had  any  concern  in  the  b  isiness,  and 
feeling  a  fine  flow  of  words  at  hand,  I  began  to  entertain 
my  fellow  travellers  with  its  numerous  beauties  of  expres- 
sion, spelling,  and  grammar.  Finding  them  very  atten- 
tive, and  encouraged  by  their  applause,  I  next  proceeded 
to  utter  a  most  violent  philippic  against  quacks  of  all  de- 
nominations, especially  those  who  go  about  poisoning  the 
ignorant  with  patent  medicines.  1  could  not  help  observ- 
ing, however,  that  my  eloquence,  while  it  had  a  powerful 
effect  on  the  muscles  of  the  rest  of  my  companions,  seemed 
to  be  thrown  away  on  this  gentleman  aforesaid.  But  con- 
cluding that  his  gravity  proceeded  from  a  wish  to  keep  up 
his  dignity,  I  resolved  to  conquer  it :  and  commenced  a 
fresh  attack,  in  which,  addressing  myself  entirely  to  him, 
1  poured  forth  all  the  ridicule  and  abuse  which  my  own 
imagination  could  suggest,  or  memory  could  supply.  But 
all  in  vain.  The  more  anirnated  and  witty  I  was,  the  more 
doleful  he  looked,  till  having  talked  myself  out  of  breath, 
and  finding  the  longitude  of  his  face  increase  every  mo- 
ment, I  desisted,  very  much  mortified  that  my  efforts  were 
so  unsuccessful.  But  in  the  midst  of  my  chagrin,  the 
coach  stopped,  the  gentleman  alighted,  and  was  welcomed 
by  a  little  squab  wife  into  a  shop  decorated  with  the  let- 
ters, "  Medical  Cordial  Store."    I  afterwards  learnt 


EnWARP  PAYSON. 


31 


ke  is  the  greatest  quack-medicine  seller  in  B.  Excuse 
me,  my  dear  father,  for  this  long  dull  story.  I  thought  it 
would  be  shorter.  I  feel  ratiier  out  of  tune  for  embellish- 
ing to-day. 

We  have  lately  been  in  a  hubbub  here  about  a  theatre. 
After  a  great  deal  of  dispute,  the  town  voted,  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  all,  that  they  would  not,  if  they  could  help  it, 
suffer  the  establishment  of  a  theatre.  One  man  said,  and 
said  publicly,  that  he  considered  it  as  much  a  duty  to 
carry  his  children  to  a  play-house,  as  he  did  to  carry  them 
to  meeting,  and  that  they  got  more  good  by  it.  Among 
the  arguments  in  favor,  it  was  asserted,  that,  though  bad 
plays  were  sometimes  acted,  bad  sermons  were  likewise 
preached,  and  that  the  pulpit  ought  to  be  pulled  down,  as 
much  as  the  theatre. — Adieu,  my  dear  father,  and  believe 
me  your  most  affectionate  son,        Edward  Payson." 

October  29,  1805. 
"  I  must,  my  dear  mother,  give  you  some  account  of  my 
comforts.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  a  very  handsome 
chamber,  which  commands  a  delightful  view  of  the  har- 
bor, and  the  town,  with  the  adjacent  country.  This 
chamber  is  sacred  ;  for  even  the  master  of  the  house  does 
not  enter  it  without  express  invitation.  At  sunrise,  a  ser- 
vant comes  and  lights  up  a  fire,  which  soon  induces  me 
to  rise,  and  I  have  nothing  to  do,  but  sit  down  to  study. 
When  I  come  from  school  at  night,  I  find  a  fire  built, 
jack  and  slippers  ready,  a  lamp  as  soon  as  it  is  dark,  and 
fuel  sufficient  for  the  evening.  An  agreement  with  a 
neighboring  bookseller  furnishes  me  with  books  in  plenty 
and  variety.  The  objections  to  our  meals  is,  they  are  too 
good,  and  consist  of  too.  great  a  variety.  And  what 
gives  a  zest  to  all,  without  which  it  would  be  insipid,  is, 
that  I  can  look  round  me,  and  view  ail  these  comforts  as 
the  effects  of  infinite,  unmerited  goodness ;  of  goodness, 
the  operations  of  which  I  can  trace  through  all  my  past 
life  ;  of  goodness,  which  I  humbly  hope  and  trust  will  con- 
tinue to  bless  me,  through  all  my  future  existence." 

November  18,  1805. 

"  My  dear  mother, 

"  I  last  night  witnessed  a  scene,  to  which  I  had  before 
been  a  stranger ;  it  was  a  death-bed  scene.    A  young  gen- 


32 


MEMOIR  OP 


tleman  of  my  acquaintance,  and  nearly  of  my  own  age, 
had  been  contined  thirty-two  days,  and  I  was  requested  to 
watch  with  liim  ;  and  a  more  exquisitely  distressing  task 
I  hope  never  to  undertake.  Wiien  I  went,  there  was  lit- 
tle, if  any,  hope  of  his  life.  His  mother — whose  favorite 
he  deservedly  was — though  she  is,  I  believe,  a  sincere 
Christian,  seemed  unable  to  support  the  idea  of  a  separa- 
tion. Fatigue  and  loss  of  sleep  made  her  light-headed  ; 
and,  at  times,  she  raved  almost  as  badly  as  the  patient. 
His  sister,  a  gay,  thoughtless  girl,  was  in  a  paro.xysm  of 
loud  and  turbulent  grief;  while  a  young  lady,  whom  he 
was  expecting  to  marry,  heightened  the  distress  by  marks 
of  anguish  too  strong  to  be  concealed  ;  and  which  seemed 
to  flow  from  tenderness,  ecjual  to  any  thing  I  have  met 
with  in  romance.  As  I  had  seen  nothing  of  the  kind  be- 
fore, its  effects  on  my  feelings  were  irresistible.  The  per- 
petual groans  and  ravings  of  the  dying — whose  head  I 
was  for  hours  obliged  to  support  with  one  hand,  while  I 
wiped  oif  the  sweat  of  death  with  the  other  ;  the  inarticu- 
late expressions  of  anguish,  mingled  with  prayers,  of  the 
mother  ;  the  loud  and  bitter  lamentations  of  the  sister  ; 
the  stifled  agonies  of  the  young  iady,  and  the  cries  of  the 
younger  branches  of  the  family,  ( tlif  fatlur  was  ashrp  ! ) 
formed  a  combination  of  sounds,  which  I  could  scarcely 
support.  Add  to  this  the  frightful  contortions  and  appa- 
rent agonies  of  the  poor  sufferer,  with  all  the  symptoms  of 
approaching  death.  About  two  o'clock  he  died.  I  then 
had  the  no  less  difficult  and  painful  task  of  endeavoring  to 
quiet  the  family.  The  mother,  when  convinced  he  was 
certainly  dead,  became  composed,  and,  with  much  per- 
suasion and  some  force,  was  prevailed  upon  to  take  her 
bed,  as  were  the  rest  of  the  family,  except  the  young  lady. 

I  had  then  to  go  half  a  mile  for  a  person  to  assist  in 
laying  out  the  corpse,  in  a  bitter  storm  as  ever  blew  ;  and 
after  this  was  done  watched  with  it  the  remainder  of  the 
night.  You  will  not  wonder  if  I  feel,  to-day,  exhausted  in 
body  and  mind.  Surely,  there  is  no  torture  like  seeing 
distress,  without  the  ability  of  removing  it.  All  day  have 
I  heard  the  dying  groans  sounding  in  my  ears.  I  could 
not  have  believed  it  possible,  that  any  thing  could  take 
such  astonisiiing  hold  of  the  mind ;  and  unless  you  can 
remember  the  first  death  you  ever  witnessed,  you  can 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


33 


never  conceive  how  it  affected  me.  But  distressing  as  it 
was,  I  would  not  for  any  thing  iiave  been  absent.  I  hope 
it  will  be  of  service  to  me.  It  is  better  to  go  to  the  house 
of  mourning,  than  to  the  house  of  mirth.  Grief  has  a 
strong  tendency  to  soften  the  lieart  and  dispose  it  to  grat- 
itude and  other  affections.  An  instance  of  this  I  saw  in 
tliis  family.  They  are  so  grateful  to  me  for — I  don't 
know  what,  that  they  seem  unable  to  thank  me  enough."* 

January  25,  1806. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  ******  last  evening.  He  is  m  the 
West  Indies,  and  has  just  recovered  from  a  fever.  Hie 
letter  is  more  friendly  than  any  I  have  received,  but  it  is 
not  so  serious  as  I  wish.  You  prophesied,  when  I  was  at 
home,  that  our  friendship  would  not  last  long  ;  but  since 
it  has  survived  a  visit  to  the  Cataract  of  Niagara,  to  Sara- 
toga Springs,  and  a  voyage  to  the  West  Indies,  it  is  some- 
thing of  a  proof  that  many  waters  cannot  quench,  neither 
floods  drown  it. 

A  classmate,  who  has  commenced  preaching,  called  last 
week  to  see  me.  Speaking  of  an  old  tutor  of  ours,  a  very 
pious  man,  who  has  lately  lost  a  much  loved  wife,  he  men- 
tioned a  letter  written  by  him,  while  the  bell  was  tolling 
for  her  funeral,  in  which  he  says,  "  The  bell  is  now  tolling 
for  my  wife's  funeral  ;  yet  I  am  happy,  happy  beyond  ex- 
pression." This  my  classmate  considered  as  a  sure  proof 
of  a  very  weak  or  very  insensible  mind.  It  is  needless  to 
add,  that  he  is  an  Arminian.  I  daily  see  more  occasion  to 
be  convinced,  that  the  Calvinistic  scheme  is,  must  be 
right,  but  I  cannot  wonder  so  few  embrace  it.  So  long 
as  the  reasonings  of  the  head  continue  to  be  influenced  by 
the  feelings  of  the  heart,  the  majority  will  reject  it." 

February  9,  1806. 
"  You  need  be  under  no  apprehension,  my  dear  mother, 
that  my  present  mode  of  living  will  render  the  manner  of 
living  in  the  most  rustic  parish  disagreeable.  On  the 
contrary,  I  shall  be  glad  of  the  exchange,  as  it  respects 
diet ;  for  I  find  it  no  ea.sy  matter  to  sit  down  to  a  talde 
profusely  spread  with  dainties,  and  eat  no  more  than  na- 
ture requires  and  temperance  allows.  And  I  should  take 
infinitely  more  satisfaction  in  the  conversation  of  a  plain, 


34 


MEMOIR  OF 


unlettered  Christian,  than  in  the  unmeaning  tattle  of  the 
drawing  room,  or  the  flippant  vivacity  of  professed  wits. 
What  gives  me  most  uneasiness,  and  what  I  fear  will 
always  be  a  thorn  in  my  path,  is,  too  great  a  thirst  for  ap- 
plause. When  I  sit  down  to  write,  I  perpetually  catch 
myself  considering,  not  what  will  be  most  useful,  but  what 
will  be  most  likely  to  gain  praise  from  an  audience.  If  I 
should  be  unpopular,  it  would,  I  fear,  give  me  more  uneasi- 
ness than  it  ought  ;  and  if — though  I  think  there  is  little 
reason  to  fear  it — I  should  in  any  degree  be  acceptable, 
what  a  terrible  blaze  it  would  make  in  my  bosom.  What 
a  temptation  this  disposition  will  be  to  suppress,  or  lightly 
touch  upon  those  doctrines  which  are  most  important,  be- 
cause they  are  disagreeable  to  most  persons.  I  should,  at 
once  give  up  in  despair,  had  I  nothing  but  my  own  phil- 
osophy to  depend  on  ;  but  I  hope  and  trust  I  shall  be 
enabled  to  conquer  it. 

"  If  you  knew  the  many  things  which  rendered  it  un- 
likely that  I  should  continue  here  half  so  long  as  I  have, 
you  would  join  with  me  in  thinking  an  overruling  provi- 
dence very  visible  in  the  whole  aflair.  With  respect  lo 
continuing  longer  I  do  not  mean  to  form  a  single  plan  on 
the  subject.  If  I  know  any  thing  of  my  own  heart,  I  can 
appeal  to  God  as  a  witness  of  my  earnest  desire  to  be  in 
the  situation,  where  he  sees  best  to  place  me,  without  any 
regard  to  its  being  agreeable  or  disagreeable  ;  and  he  can, 
and  I  doubt  not  will,  order  matters  so  as  to  shorten  or  pro- 
long my  stay  here  as  he  pleases." 

January  15,  1806. 
"  If  you,  my  dear  Mother,  can  pick  out  the  meaning  in 
the  last  page,  I  shall  be  glad  ;  for  in  truth  it  is  but  poorly 
expressed.  You  must  have  observed,  that  my  letters  are 
very  obscure ;  that  the  transitions  from  one  subject  to  an- 
other are  rapid  and  capricious.  The  reason  of  this  con- 
fusion is, — when  I  sit  down  to  write,  forty  ideas  jump  at 
once,  all  equally  eager  to  get  out,  and  jostle  and  incom- 
mode each  other  at  such  a  rate,  that,  not  the  most  proper, 
but  the  strongest,  escapes  first.  My  mind  would  fain  pour 
itself  all  out,  at  once,  on  the  paper ;  but  the  pen  being 
rather  too  small  a  passage,  it  comes  out  in  wads,  like  but- 
ter out  of  a  bottle.    So  much  by  way  of  apology,  by  which 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


■35 


as  is  usually  the  case  with  apologies,  I  have  only  made 
bad  worse." 

April  2,  1806. 

"Mv  DEAR  Mother, 

"  I  have  just  received  your  last  paquet,  and  am  so  re- 
joiced, I  can  hardly  sit  still  enough  to  write.  They  were 
not  half  long  enough  to  satiate  me,  and  I  am  more  hungry 
than  before.  Yesterday,  in  order  to  appease  my  hunger, 
I  read  over  all  the  letters  I  have  received  this  year  past, 
to  my  great  satisfaction. —  You  must  not  expect  method 
nor  Icgibh'  writing.  These  qualifications  are  necessary  in 
a  billet  of  compliments,  but  in  a  letter  to  friends  I  despise 
them.  However,  if  my  good  friends  are  ibnd  of  them, 
and  prefer  them  to  the  rapid  effusions  of  affection  that 
will  hardly  wait  the  pen's  motion,  I  will  soon  write  a  let- 
ter, that  shall  be  as  cold  and  as  splendid  as  an  ice-palace. 
You  may  usually  observe  my  hand  writing  is  much  bet- 
ter at  the  beginning,  than  at  the  end  of  my  letters ;  and 
this  happens,  because  I  gather  warmth  as  I  write.  A  let- 
ter to  a  friend,  written  with  exact  care,  is  like — "  Ma- 
dam, I  hope  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  in  very 
good  health," — addressed  to  a  mother,  on  meeting  her 
after  a  year's  absence. 

"  I  did  not  recollect,  that  I  made  use  of  a  billet  to  en- 
close my  letters.  However,  I  suppose  it  did  just  as  well. 
Pray  give  my  love  to  Phillips,  (with  the  rest  of  the  dear 
clan,)  and  tell  him,  that,  instead  of  being  a  sign  of  pov- 
erty, it  is  the  surest  way  to  be  rich,  to  save  even  the  cov- 
er of  a  letter  ;  besides,  I  have  Papa's  authority  for  using 
billets  in  that  way." 

These  extracts  show  how  he  appreciated  the  relations  of 
son  and  brother,  and  how  just  he  was  to  all  the  claims, 
which  these  relations  involve.  His  filial  affection  is 
among  the  loveliest  traits  in  his  character,  and  it  never 
suffered  any  abatement,  so  long  as  he  had  a  parent  to 
love.  He  continued  to  appropriate,  unasked,  and  of 
choice,  the  excess  of  his  earnings  above  his  expenditures, 
to  the  use  of  his  parents,  till  the  whole  amount  expended 
for  his  education  had  been  reimbursed.  By  word  and 
deed,  in  the  thousand  ways  which  affection  suggests,  he 
sought  their  comfort  and  happiness. 


36 


MEMOIR  OF 


It  was  not  till  the  third  year  of  his  residence  in  Portland, 
that  he  made  his  tirst  appearance  before  a  popular  assem- 
bly. On  tlie  4th  of  July,  18Ub,  at  the  request  of  the  mu- 
nicipal authorities  of  the  town,  he  pronounced  the  anni- 
versary oration, — a  performance,  wiiich  secured  him  un- 
bounded applause,  and  which  he  was  solicited,  with  great 
earnestness,  to  allow  to  be  published  ;  but  no  persuasion 
could  induce  him  to  give  a  copy.  This  production  is  em- 
inently rich  in  imagery,  and  generally  in  sound  political 
views.  He  shared  with  many  wise  and  good  men  serious 
apprehensions  for  the  result  of  the  experiment  making  in 
our  own  country,  whether  a  free  government  can  be  per- 
petuated. Those  who  recollect  the  circumstances  of  our 
country  at  the  time,  well  know  that  there  were  many  rea- 
sons for  doubt ;  and  that,  in  the  view  of  all,  an  important 
crisis  was  approaching,  which  will  account  for,  if  not  jus- 
tify, the  coloring  in  the  following  picture  : 

"  The  vessel  of  our  republic,  driven  by  the  gales  of 
faction,  and  hurried  still  faster  by  the  secret  current  of 
luxury  and  vice,  is  following  the  same  course,  and  fast 
approaching  the  same  rocks,  which  have  proved  fatal  to  so 
many  before  us.  Already  may  we  hear  the  roaring  of  the 
•urge ;  already  do  we  begin  to  circle  round  the  vortex 
which  is  soon  to  engulf  us.  Yet  we  see  no  danger.  In 
rain  does  experience  oifer  us  the  wisdom  of  past  ages  for 
our  direction  :  In  vain  does  the  genius  of  history  spread 
her  chart,  and  point  out  the  ruin  towards  which  we  are 
advancing :  In  vain  do  the  ghosts  of  departed  govern- 
ments, lingering  round  the  rocks  on  which  they  perished, 
warn  us  of  our  approaching  fate,  and  eagerly  strive  to 
terrify  us  from  our  course.  It  seems  to  be  an  immutable 
law  of  our  nature,  that  nations,  as  well  as  individuals,  shall 
learn  wisdom  by  no  experience  but  their  own.  That 
blind,  that  accursed  infatuation,  which  ever  appears  to 
govern  mankind  when  their  most  important  interests  are 
concerned,  leads  us,  in  defiance  of  reason,  experience, 
and  common  sense,  to  flatter  ourselves,  that  the  same 
causes  which  have  proved  fatal  to  all  other  governments, 
will  lose  their  pernicious  tendency  when  exerted  on  our 
own." 

Alluding  to  the  reigning  policy  of  our  government  in 


BDWAni)  VAYSON. 


37 


lelation  to  commerce,  and  to  a  navy  as  a  means  of  national 
defence,  and  classing  among  its  effects  the  blockade  of 
our  ports,  the  detention  of  our  vessels,  and  the  plunder- 
ing of  our  property  by  every  petty  freebooter,  he  thus 
states  and  exposes  the  argument  by  which  it  had  beeij 
defended  : 

"  As  some  consolation  under  these  accumulated  evils, 
we  have  lately  been  told,  that  the  United  States  are  a  land 
animal — an  elephant,  who  is  resistless  on  land,  but  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  dominion  or  navigation  of  the 
sea.  Grant  that  they  are  so ;  yet  if  this  elephant  can  nei- 
ther cool  his  burning  heat,  nor  quench  his  thirst,  without 
losing  his  proboscis  by  the  jaws  of  the  shark  or  the  tusks 
of  the  alligator,  what  does  it  avail  him,  that  he  is  allowed 
to  graze  his  native  plains  in  safety  V 

Some  of  his  paragraphs  seem  less  like  the  language  of 
an  ardent  youth,  than  the  prophetic  warnings  of  the  seer  : 

"  That  virtue,  both  in  those  who  command,  and  those 
who  obey,  is  absolutely  essential  to  the  existence  of  re- 
publics, is  a  maxim,  and  a  most  in)portant  one,  in  politi- 
cal science.  Whether  we  retain  a  sufficient  share  of  this 
\irtue,  to  promise  ourselves  a  long  duration,  you,  my 
friends,  must  decide.  But,  should  the  period  ever  ar- 
rive, when  luxury  and  intemperance  shall  corrupt  our 
towns,  while  ignorance  and  vice  pervade  the  country ; 
when  the  press  shall  become  the  common  sewer  of  false- 
hood and  slander  ;  when  talents  and  integrity  shall  be  no 
recommendation,  and  open  dereliction  of  all  principle  no 
obstacle  to  preferment ;  when  we  shall  entrust  our  liber- 
ties to  men,  with  whom  we  should  not  dare  to  trust  our 
property  ;  when  the  chief  seats  of  honor  and  responsibil- 
ity in  our  government  shall  be  filled  by  characters,  of 
whom  the  most  malicious  ingenuity  can  invent  nothing 
worse  than  the  truth  ;  when  we  shall  see  the  members  of 
our  national  councils,  in  defiance  of  the  laws  of  God  and 
their  country,  throwing  away  their  lives  in  defence  of 
reputations,  which,  if  they  ever  existed,  had  long  been 
lost ;  when  the  slanderers  of  Washington  and  the  blas- 
phemers of  our  God  shall  be  thought  useful  laborers  in 
4 


38 


MEMOIR  OP 


our  political  vineyard  ;  when,  in  fine,  we  shall  see  our 
legislators  sacrificing  their  senses,  their  reason,  their 
oaths,  and  their  consciences  at  the  altar  of  party — then 
we  may  say,  that  virtue  has  departed,  and  that  the  end 
of  our  liberty  draweth  nigh." 

After  drawing  a  most  striking  and  vivid  contrast  be- 
tween the  circumstances  and  prospects  of  the  country  as 
they  existed  at  the  time,  and  as  they  had  been  at  a  for- 
mer period,  he  proceeds  : 

"  The  imperfect  sketch  of  our  situation,  which  has 
just  been  given,  is  not  drawn  for  the  sake  of  indulging 
in  idle  complaints,  or  querulous  declamation  ;  and  still 
less  is  it  intended  to  lead  to  a  conclusion,  that  our  case  is 
desperate.  But  it  is  intended,  if  there  be  yet  remaining 
one  spark  of  that  spirit,  one  drop  of  that  blood,  which  an- 
imated and  warmed  the  breasts  of  our  fathers,  to  rouse  it 
to  vigorous  and  energetic  exertions.  It  is  to  the  want  of 
such  exertions,  that  we  must  ascribe  the  rapid  and  alarm- 
ing spread  of  disorganizing  and  demoralizing  principles 
among  us  ;  and  we  can,  in  fact,  blame  none  but  ourselves 
for  the  evils  we  suffer.  Had  we  paid  half  that  attention 
to  the  interests  of  our  country  and  the  preservation  of  lib- 
erty, that  we  have  to  the  calls  of  indulgence,  of  pleasure, 
of  avarice,  never  should  we  have  seen  the  sun  of  Ameri- 
can glory  thus  shorn  of  his  beams,  and  apparently  about 
to  set  forever.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  when  aroused  by 
some  particular  interesting  object,  we  have  started  from 
our  slumbers,  and  seen  the  fiendlike  form  of  faction  sink 
beneath  our  efforts.  But  no  sooner  was  the  object  of  our 
exertions  accomplished,  than  we  returned  to  our  couches, 
and  while  we  were  exulting  in  our  strength,  and  rejoicing 
in  our  victory,  suffered  our  indefatigable  foe  to  regain  all 
she  had  lost.  It  is  not  sudden  and  transient  efforts,  how- 
ever vigorous  and  well-directed,  that  can  preserve  any 
state  from  destruction.  There  is  in  all  popular  govern- 
ments a  national  tendency  to  degenerate,  as  there  is  in 
matter  to  fall  ;  and  nothing  can  counteract  this  tendency, 
and  the  continual  endeavor  of  unprincipled  men  to  in- 
crease it,  but  the  most  energetic  and  persevering  exer- 
tions.   On  no  easier  terms  can  the  blessings  of  freedom 


EDWARD  PAVSON. 


39 


be  enjoyed  ;  and  if  we  think  this  price  too  great,  it  evin- 
ces that  we  are  neither  worthy  nor  capable  of  enjoying 
them. 

"  This  inexcusable  neglect,  so  fatal  to  our  liberties,  and 
8o  disgraceful  to  ourselves,  is  occasioned,  in  some  meas- 
ure, by  the  indulgence  of  hopes  not  less  dangerous  than 
they  are  groundless  and  delusive.  We  are  told,  that  the 
torrent  of  licentiousness,  which  is  rushing  in  upon  us,  is 
not  a  just  cause  for  alarm  ;  that  it  will  cease  of  itself 
when  it  has  run  its  career ;  and  that  the  people,  having 
learned  wisdom  by  experience,  will  know  how  to  prize 
the  blessings  of  order,  and  return  with  alacrity  to  their 
former  correct  habits.  True,  it  will  cease  when  it  has 
run  its  career  ;  and  so  will  the  conflagration  that  destroys 
your  dwelling  ;  but  will  you,  therefore,  use  no  endeavors 
to  extinguish  it  ?  Beware  of  indulging  any  hopes,  but 
those  which  are  founded  on  exertions.  The  torrent  which 
approaches  us,  is  the  overwhelming  deluge  of  Vesuvius  or 
yEtna,  which  calcines  or  consumes  what  it  cannot  re- 
move, leaves  nothing  behind  it  but  a  black  sterility,  and 
renders  ages  insufficient  to  repair  the  havoc  of  a  day. 

*    *    *    *  * 

"  Away,  then,  with  those  idle  hopes  and  frivolous  ex- 
cuses, which  defraud  us  of  the  only  moments  in  which 
our  safety  can  be  secured.  Away  with  that  indolence,  so 
unworthy,  so  inconsistent  with  the  character  of  freemen. 
This  is  the  very  crisis  of  our  fate.  We  stand  on  the  ex- 
tremest  verge  of  safety ;  a  single  step  may  plunge  us 
headlong,  never  to  rise.  The  immense  wheel  of  revolu- 
tion may  be  put  in  motion  by  a  fly,  though  it  would  re- 
quire more  than  mortal  power  to  arrest  its  progress.  Those 
who  attempt  to  check  its  career,  must  fall  the  first  vic- 
tims to  its  ponderous  weight ;  while  those  only,  who  urge 
it  forward,  and  rejoice  in  the  horrid  devastation  it  occa- 
sions, can  be  safe.  But  let  us  not,  tiierefore,  give  way  to 
despair.  The  same  maxim,  that  bids  us  never  presume, 
teaches  us  likewise  never  to  de.spair.  By  neglecting  the 
first  of  these  precepts,  we  have  begun  our  ruin  ;  let  us 
not  complete  it  by  neglecting  the  last.  Let  us  endeavor 
to  open  those  eyes  wlio.se  sight  is  not  totally  extin^ruished 
hy  the  virulence  of  the  disease.    The  bright  rays  of  truth 


40 


MEMUIK  (»F 


and  reason  condensed,  and  reflected  from  a  polished 
mind,  may  penetrate  even  the  shades  and  mists  of  ******* 
prejudice.  Remember,  that,  when  good  is  to  be  promo- 
ted, or  evil  opposed,  it  is  the  duty  of  every  individual  to 
conduct  as  if  the  wliole  success  of  the  enterprise  depend- 
ed on  himself  Remember,  too,  that  there  is  no  individ- 
ual so  insignificant,  that  he  cannot  afford  some  assistance 
in  the  struggle  for  liberty  and  order. 

"  But  let  us  be  careful,  my  friends,  to  engage  in  this 
struggle,  in  a  manner,  and  with  arms,  worthy  of  the 
cause  we  profess  to  support.  Why  should  we  disgrace 
that  and  ourselves,  by  contending  for  the  most  important 
interests  of  our  country  in  language  fit  only  for  a  tenant 
of  Billingsgate,  disputing  about  the  property  of  a  shrimp 
or  an  oyster  ?  Why  should  we  quit  the  high  ground  of 
reason  and  argument,  on  which  we  stand,  to  wrestle  with 
our  antagonists  in  the  kennel  of  scurrility  and  abuse  ? 
*****  Why  should  we  exchange  weapons,  with  which 
we  are  certain  of  victory,  for  those  which  our  adversaries 
can  wield  with  equal,  and,  perhaps,  superior  dexterity  ? 

#    *    *    »  * 

"  It  ought  never  to  be  forgotten,  that,  except  in  some 
few  instances,  where  they  are  inseparable  even  in  idea,  it 
is  not  men,  but  principles,  we  are  to  attack.  E.xperience 
has  at  length,  in  some  measure,  taught  us,  what  we 
ought  long  since  to  have  learned  from  reason,  that, 
though  ridicule  can  irritate,  it  cannot  convince.  On  the 
contrary,  it  rouses  to  opposition  some  of  the  strongest 
passions  in  the  human  breast ;  and  he  must  be  something 
different  from  man,  who  can  be  scourged  out  of  any  opin- 
ion by  the  lash  of  personal  satire.  ****** 

"  But  all  our  exertions,  however  animated  by  zeal,  ner- 
ved by  energy,  and  guided  by  prudence,  will  be  insuffi- 
cient to  restore  us  to  the  height  from  which  we  have  fall- 
en, unless  we  restore  those  moral  and  religious  princi- 
ples, which  were  formerly  our  glory,  our  ornament,  and 
defence.  Would  you  know,  my  friends,  the  real  source 
of  the  calamities  we  suffer,  and  the  dangers  we  fear  ?  It 
is  here ;  we  have  forsaken  the  God  of  our  fathers,  and 
therefore  all  this  evil  has  come  upon  us.  We  once  glori- 
ed in  styling  ourselves  his  American  l8rael_,  and  a  eimi- 


EnWARO  PAYSON. 


41 


larity  of  character  and  situation,  gives  us  a  claim  to  the 
title.  Like  them,  we  have  often  been  delivered  by  hie 
uplifted  hand  and  his  outstretched  arm  ;  like  them,  we 
have  experienced  his  muiiiticence  in  temporal  and  spirit- 
ual blessings;  and,  like  them,  we  have  repaid  his  good- 
ness with  ingratitude  and  rebellion.  Like  them,  we  have 
bowed  down  to  the  idols  of  luxury,  of  ambition,  of  pleas- 
ure, and  avarice  ;  and  as  we  have  copied  their  idolatry, 
so,  unless  heaven  in  undeserved  mercy  prevent,  we  shall 
soon  resemble  them  in  their  destruction.  It  is  an  immu- 
table truth,  that  sin  is  the  ruin  of  any  people;  and  wo  to 
that  nation  who  will  not  believe  it  without  making  the 
experiment.  This  experiment,  fatal  as  it  must  prove,  we 
seem  resolved  to  make.  Among  us  God's  laws  are  dii-o- 
beyed,  his  institutions  are  despised,  his  Sabbaths  are  pro- 
faned, and  liis  name  is  blasphemed.  And  shall  he  not 
visit  for  these  things  ?  will  he  not  be  avenged  on  such  a 
nation  as  this  '?  ***** 

"  Will  any  reply,  with  a  sneer,  that  these  observations 
have  been  often  repeated,  and  that  they  have  now  become 
trite  and  old  ?  They  are  so  ;  ****  and  though  this  were 
the  ten  thousandth  repetition,  still,  if  we  have  not  yet  re- 
duced them  to  practice,  it  is  necessary  to  hear  them 
agdin  and  again.  Remember,  that  it  is  in  vain  to  boa-t 
ol'our  patriotism,  and  make  high  pretensions  to  love  lor 
our  country,  while  by  our  private  vices  we  are  adding  to 
the  national  debt  of  iniquity  under  which  she  groans,  and 
which  must  soon  plunge  her  in  the  gulf  of  irretrievable 
ruin.  Hear,  and  remember — that  if,  in  defiance  of  rea- 
son, gratitude,  and  religion,  we  still  madly  persist  to  fol- 
low that  path,  in  which  we  have  already  made  such  rapid 
advances,  and  to  imitate  the  vices  of  those  nations  who 
have  gone  before  us,  as  certain  as  there  is  a  God  in  heav- 
en, so  certainly  we  shall  share  their  fate. 

"  If  then  you  would  display  true  love  for  your  country, 
and  lengthen  out  the  span  of  her  existence,  endeavor  by 
precept,  but  especially  by  example,  to  inculcate  the  prin- 
ciples of  order,  morality,  and  religion.  Exert  your  influ- 
ence to  check  the  progress  of  luxury,  that  first,  second, 
and  tliird  cause  of  the  ruin  of  republics;  that  vampyre, 
which  soothes  us  into  a  fatal  slumber,  while  it  sucks  the 
life-blood  from  our  veins.  Above  all,  be  attentive  to  the 
4* 


MEMOIR  ur 


morals  of  the  rising  generation,  and  do  not,  by  neglect 
and  indulgence,  nourish  the  native  seeds  of  vice  and  faC" 
tion  in  their  hearts.  Let  not  these  counsels  be  despised, 
because  they  are  the  words  of  youth  and  inexperience. 
When  your  habitation  is  in  flames,  a  child  may  give  the 
alarm,  as  well  as  a  philosopher." 

The  extracts  from  this  oration  have  been  the  more  co- 
pious, as  it  is  the  only  considerable  production  of  Dr. 
Payson,  that  survives  him,  whose  object  was  not  profess- 
edly religious  ;  and  because  this  performance  is  thought 
to  have  had  influence  in  fixing  his  ultimate  destination. 
This  was  the  commencement  of  his  career,  as  a  public 
speaker,  and  probably  the  only  occasion  on  which  he  ad- 
dressed a  popular  assembly,  till  he  stood  forth  as  the  am- 
bassador of  Christ.  In  selecting  the  passages  to  be  pre- 
served, regard  was  had  not  so  much  to  originality,  nor  to 
brilliancy  of  imagery,  as  to  the  permanent  value  of  the 
sentiments,  and  their  suitableness  to  the  design  of  this 
\york. 


EDWAUD  PAYSON". 


43 


CHAPTER  III. 

His  religious  history  during  the  period  embraced  in  the 
preceding  chapter. 

"  When  did  Dr.  Payson  become  religious  ?" — and 
"  what  was  the  character  of  his  religious  experience  at 
the  time  he  embraced  tlie  hope  of  the  gospel  I" — are 
questions  which  have  been  frequently  proposed,  but  nev- 
er satisfactorily  answered.  With  respect  to  them  he  in- 
variably maintained  a  reserve,  which,  to  good  people  who 
were  over-curious  to  know,  appeared  wholly  unaccount- 
able. If  he  ever  fully  communicated  those  inward  feel- 
ings and  exercises,  which  issued  in  a  confirmed  hope,  it 
must  have  been  to  his  parents  and  sister,  who  are  no  lon- 
ger inhabitants  of  earth.  No  solicitations  by  others  could 
draw  from  him  a  particular  history  of  that  process  through 
which  he  was  carried,  before  he  could  appropriate  the 
comforting  language,  "Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have 
peace  with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  The 
compiler  of  these  pages  studied  his  religious  history  in  an 
inverted  order,  and,  being  first  made  acquainted  with  that 
part  of  his  experience  which  belonged  to  a  subsequent  pe- 
riod of  his  life,  was  ready  to  account  for  his  reserve  on 
the  supposition,  that  the  exercises  attending  his  conver- 
sion were  of  an  extraordinary  kind  ;  and,  if  adopted  as  a 
standard  of  religious  experience,  which,  considering  tlie 
character  and  station  of  their  subject  and  that  sort  of 
oracular  authority  which  was  connected  in  many  minds 
with  whatever  he  sanctioned,  they  could  hardly  fail  to  be, 
to  some  extent — would  occasion  much  discomfort  to  real 
believers,  and  be  far  from  recommending  religion  to  such 
as  have  never  yielded  themselves  to  its  influence. 

A  diifereat  supposition,  however,  is  more  credible,  and 
has  something  like  evidence  to  support  it.  It  has  already 
been  seen,  that  his  mother,  who  doubtless  watched  and 
pondered  in  her  heart"  every  indication  of  the  state  of 


44 


WF.MOIR  OP 


his  feelings  on  this  subject,  was  not  without  a  partial  be" 
lief,  that  he  was  converted  in  childhood.  His  room-mate, 
since  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  thinks  that  '  he  experienc- 
ed religion  before  entering  college,  but,  owing  to  his  pe- 
culiar situation  while  there,  became  a  backslider.'  An- 
other classmate,  one  of  the  literary  associates  mentioned 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  whose  speculative  views  of  re- 
ligion are  supposed  to  differ  from  those  of  his  departed 
friend,  but  who  has  the  power  to  discern,  and  a  heart  to 
appreciate  worth,  wherever  found,  has  thus  expressed 
himself  in  relation  to  these  questions  : — "  His  theological 
opinions,  during  his  early  consideration  of  subjects  of  that 
nature,  were  essentially  Calvinistic  ;  but  his  views  of  the 
operative  power  of  religious  faith  upon  the  heart  and  life, 
were  materially  altered,  previous  to  entering  upon  the 
great  work  which  occupied  the  remainder  of  his  days. 
The  important  change  took  place  gradually,  not  from  any 
sudden  or  overpowering  impressions." 

With  such  an  origin  correspond  the  earlier  fruits  and 
operations  of  his  religion,  so  far  as  tliey  can  be  gathered 
from  writings  which  he  has  left  behind  him.  His  religion 
was  of  a  comparatively  gentle,  unobtrusive,  amiable,  yet 
progressive  character,  less  marked  by  the  extremes  of  ag- 
onizing and  triumphant  feelings,  than  it  was  at  a  subse- 
quent period — a  dilierenoe,  for  which  the  reader  will,  in 
the  sequel,  be  at  no  loss  to  account.  From  the  early  part 
of  1804,  religion  seems  to  have  been  his  all-engrossing 
concern  ;  his  attention  was  then  arrested,  and  hxed  so  as 
never  afterwards  to  be  diverted,  for  any  length  of  time, 
from  the  subject.  Whetber  he  were  in  an  unconverted, 
or  backslidden  state,  he  was  then  roused,  as  from  sleep, 
to  take  a  solemn  view  of  his  relations  as  an  accountable 
and  immortal  being.  The  occasion  of  this  new  or  revived 
concern  for  his  soul,  was  the  death  of  a  beloved  brother. 
A  letter  to  his  parents,  in  answer  to  one  which  announced 
the  sorrowful  tidings,  is  the  earliest  production  of  his  pen 
which  has  escaped  oblivion,  and  on  this  account  alone  will 
be  read  with  interest.  But  it  has  a  higher  value,  as  it  en- 
ables us  to  date  the  commencement  of  his  attention  to  his 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


45 


spiritual  interests,  as  far  back  as  May  20,  1804,*  the  time 
when  his  letter  was  dated,  and  it  more  than  intimates  that 
the  subject  with  him  was  not  new. 

"  My  dear  Mother's  fears  respecting  my  attention  to 
religious  concerns  were,  alas  !  but  too  well  founded.  In- 
fatuated by  the  pleasures  and  amusements,  which  this 
place  affords,  and  which  took  the  more  powerful  hold  on 
my  senses  from  being  adorned  with  a  refinement  to  which 
I  had  before  been  a  stranger,  I  gradually  grew  cold  and 
indifferent  to  religion  ;  and,  though  I  still  made  attempts 
to  reform,  they  were  too  transient  to  be  effectual. 

"  From  this  careless  frame,  nothing  but  a  shock  like 
that  I  have  received,  could  have  roused  me  ;  and  though 
my  deceitful  heart  will,  I  fear,  draw  me  back  again  into 
the  snare,  as  soon  as  the  first  impression  is  worn  off,  yet  I 
hope,  by  the  assistance  of  divine  grace,  that  this  dispen- 
sation will  prove  of  eternal  benefit.  This  is  my  most  earn- 
est prayer,  and  I  know  it  will  be  yours. 

"  In  reflecting  on  the  ends  of  divine  Providence  in  this 
event,  I  am  greatly  distressed.  To  you,  my  dear  Parents, 
it  could  not  be  necessary.  My  sister,  as  you  sometime 
since  informed  me,  has  turned  her  attention  to  religion  ; 
the  other  children  are  too  young  to  receive  benefit  from  it. 
It  remains,  then,  that  I  am  the  Achan,  who  has  drawn 
down  this  punishment,  and  occasioned  this  distress  to  my 
friends.  My  careless,  obdurate  heart  rendered  it  neces- 
sary, to  punish  and  humble  it :  and,  O,  that  the  punish- 
ment had  fallen  where  it  was  due.  But  I  can  pursue  the 
subject  no  further." — 

'This  date  is  given,  as  it  appears  in  Dr.  Payson's  hand  writing. 
A  correspondent,  however,  places  it  a  year  later.  If  the  date  of  the 
brother's  death  li.as  been  preserved  on  the  I'umilij  Record,  which  is 
altogether  probable,  to  that  date  this  change  in  his  feelings  should 
be  referred.  It  is  possible  something  may  have  faded  from  the  last 
of  the  figures  denoting  the  year. 

It  has  been  stated  on  credible  authority,  that  Dr.  Payson  was  so 
much  affected  by  this  bereavement,  that  he  confined  himself  to  his 
chamber  for  three  days  ;  and  that,  previously  to  this  period,  he  had 
purposed  to  devote  himself  to  the  profession  of  the  law.  If  so,  the 
.lifliction  was  no  less  a  mercy  to  the  church,  thau  to  himself. 

"  God  is  his  own  Interpreter." 


46 


MKMOIR  OF 


Here  is  the  subdued  tone  of  the  penitent,  '  come  to 
himself,  and  returning  to  his  Father.'  Of  his  progress  in 
piety  for  tlie  next  six  months,  nothing  is  known  except 
what  may  be  inierred  from  a  letter,  dated  Dec.  12th,  of 
the  same  year.  An  extract  will  show  that  he  was  not  in- 
attentive to  what  passed  in  his  own  heart,  nor  without  ex- 
perience in  the  Christian  conllict. 

"  I  have  nothing  but  complaints  of  myself  to  make, 
nothing  but  the  same  old  story  of  erring  and  repenting, 
but  never  reforming.  I  fear  1  am  in  a  sad  way.  I  attend 
public  worship,  and  think  of  every  subject  but  the  proper 
one  ;  or  if,  by  strong  exertions,  I  fix  my  attention,  tor  a 
few  minutes,  I  feel  an  irresistible  propensity  to  criticise 
the  preacher,  instead  of  attending  to  the  instructions  ; 
and,  notwithstanding  a  fidl  conviction  that  tliis  conduct  is 
wrong,  I  persist  in  it  still.  Hence  it  happens,  that  the 
Sabbath,  which  is  so  admirably  calculated  to  keep  alive 
a  sense  of  religion,  becomes  a  stumbling-block.  The 
thought  of  my  sinful  neglect  and  inattention,  so  shames 
and  distresses  me,  that  I  am  unable  to  approach  the 
throne  of  grace,  through  shame.  As  this,  I  know,  is  the 
fruit  of  a  self-righteous  spirit,  I  strive  against  it ;  and,  af- 
ter two  or  three  days,  perhaps,  am  enabled  to  trust  in 
Christ  for  the  pardon  of  that  and  other  sins.  But,  anoth- 
er Sabbath,  the  same  round  is  repeated.  Thus  I  go  on, 
sinning  and  humbling  myself  after  long  seeking  for  a 
proper  sense  of  my  sin,  then  confessing  it  with  contrition 
and  remorse  ;  and,  the  next  moment,  even  while  the  joy 
of  obtained  pardon,  and  gratitude  for  divine  favor  is 
thrilling  in  my  heart,  plunging,  on  the  most  trivial  temp-' 
tation  into  tlie  same  error,  whose  bitter  consequences  I 
had  so  lately  felt.  Shame  and  remorse  for  the  ungrate- 
ful returns  I  have  made  for  the  blessings  bestowed,  pre- 
vent secret  prayer,  frequently  for  two  or  three  days  to- 
gether, until  I  can  no  longer  support  it ;  and  though  I 
have  so  often  experienced  forgiving  love,  I  am  too  proud 
to  ask  for  it." 

A  few  weeks  afterwards  he  writes  thus  : — "  I  feel  con- 
vinced by  experience,  that  if  I  relax  my  exertions  for  ever 
60  short  a  time,  it  will  require  additional  exertions  to  repair 


KUWARD  PAY90N. 


47 


it,  and  perhaps  occasion  a  week's  gloom  and  despondency  ; 
yet  the  least  temptalion  leads  me  to  do,  what  I  feel  con- 
scious at  the  time,  I  shall  severely  smart  for.  In  the  im- 
practicable attempt  to  reconcile  God  and  the  world,  I 
spend  my  time  very  unhappily,  neither  enjoying  the  com- 
forts of  this  world,  nor  of  religion.  But  I  have  at  last  de- 
termined to  renounce  the  false  pleasures  for  which  I  pay 
so  dear,  and  this  I  should  have  done  long  ago,  but  for  the 
advice  and  example  of  some  whose  judgment  I  respected." 

"  I  have  lately  been  severely  tried  with  doubts  and  diffi- 
culties respecting  many  parts  of  Scripture.  Readmg  the 
other  day,  I  met  with  this  passage,  "  for  his  great  name's 
sake."  It  was  immediately  suggested  to  my  mind,  that, 
as  the  Deity  bestowed  all  his  favor  on  us,  "  for  his  great 
name's  sake,"  we  were  under  no  obligations  to  feel  grate- 
ful for  them.  And  though  my  heart  assented  to  the  pro- 
priety of  gratitude,  my  head  would  not.  In  hearing  my 
scholars  recite  the  Greek  Testament,  I  am  disturbed  by 
numberless  seeming  inconsistencies  and  doubts,  which, 
though  they  do  not  shake  my  belief,  render  me  for  a  time 
extremely  miserable.  I  find  no  relief  in  these  trials  from 
the  treatises  "which  have  been  written  in  proof  of  the  truth 
of  revelation.  It  is  from  a  ditferenl  source  that  assistance 
is  received." 

April  20,  1805. 

"  My  DEAREST  Mother, 

I  have  just  been  perusing  something  excessively  inter- 
esting to  my  feelings.  Il  is  a  short  extract  from  your  jour- 
nal in  my  sister's  letter.  Surely  it  is  my  own  fault,  that  I 
do  not  resemble  Samuel  in  more  instances  than  one.  What 
a  disgrace  to  me,  that,  with  such  rare  and  inestimable  ad- 
vantages, I  have  made  no  greater  progress.  However, 
thanks  to  the  fervent,  effectual  prayers  of  my  righteous  par- 
ents, and  the  tender  mercies  of  my  God  upon  me,  I  have 
reason  to  hope,  that  the  pious  wishes,  breathed  over  my  in- 
fant head,  are  in  some  measure  fidfilled  ;  nor  would  I  ex- 
change the  benefits  which  I  have  derived  from  my  parents 
for  the  inheritance  of  any  monarch*  in  the  universe. 

*The  admirers  of  Cowper— between  whom  and  the  subject  of  this 


48 


MEMOIR  OB 


"I  feel  inclined  to  hope  that  I  am  progressing,  though  ty 
slow  and  imperceptible  degrees,  in  the  knowledge  of  divine 
things.  On  comparing  my  tbrmer  and  present  views,  I 
find  that  the  latter  are  much  less  conl'used  and  perplexed, 
that  I  have  clearer  conceptions  of  my  uttei  inabilitj  to  take 
a  single  step  in  religion,  without  divine  assistance,  of  the 
consequent  necessity  of  a  Saviour,  and  of  the  way  of  sal- 
vation by  him.  Yet  1  cannot  hnd  that  my  conduct,  my 
heart  or  disposition  is  made  better.  On  the  contrary,  I 
fear  they  are  worse  than  ever. 

"  I  was,  a  few  evenings  since,  at  Mr.  K's,  and  was  fa- 
vored by  him  with  the  perusal  of  a  letter  from  a  member 
of  his  church,  a  girl  in  the  lowest  situation  in  life,  desti- 
tute of  every  opportunity  of  improvement.  Yet  her  letter 
not  only  evinced  the  deepest  humility,  and  the  most  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  religion,  but  such  understanding  in 
the  scriptures,  and  such  clearness  of  conception,  as  con- 
vinced me  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is  the  most  effectual 
teacher,  and  that  without  it,  in  vain  can  any  one  hope  to 
arrive  at  tliat  degree  of  acquaintance  with  divine  things, 
which  is  necessary." 

"June  12,  1805. 
 "  I  find  I  have  been  trying  to  establish  a  right- 
eousness of  my  own,  though  till  lately  I  thought  myself 
free  from  any  such  design.  Hence  arose  all  that  unwil- 
lingness to  perform  the  public  and  private  exercises  of  de- 
votion, which  I  felt  after  any  neglect  of  duty.  I  wanted, 
forsooth,  to  be  encouraged  to  hope  for  an  answer  of  peace, 
by  some  merits  of  my  own,  and  so  felt  unwilling  to  ap- 
proach the  throne  of  grace,  when  I  had  been  guilty  of  any 
thing,  which  lessened  my  stock  of  goodness.  In  short, 
it  was  the  same  kind  of  reluctance  which  I  should  feel  to 
approach  a  fellow  being  whom  I  had  injured.  And  this, 
which  I  now  see  arose  from  pride,  I  fondly  thought  was 

memoir,  there  are  several  strong  points  of  resemblance — will  be  rev 
minded,  at  once,  of  those  beautiful  lines  : 

"  My  boast  is  not  that  I  deduce  my  birth 

From  loins  enthroned,  and  rulers  of  the  earth  ; 

But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise ; 

The  son  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies." 


HDWARl)  VAYSON. 


49 


the  effect  of  great  humility.  Finding  myself  so  deceived 
here,  and  in  numberless  other  instances,  I  am  utterly  at 
a  loss  what  to  do.  If  I  attempt  to  perform  any  duty,  I  am 
afraid  it  is  only  an  attempt  to  build  up  a  fabric  of  my 
own  ;  and  if  I  neglect  it,  the  case  is  still  worse. 

*    *    *    *  * 

"  Since  the  period  of  my  leaving  home  for  Cambridge, 
it  has  appeared  the  most  discouraging  circumstance  at- 
tending the  spread  of  religion,  that  many,  who  undertake 
to  preach  it,  are  so  shamefully  negligent.  Of  this,  my 
dear  mother,  you  can  form  no  just  idea,  unless  you  have 
heard  them.  While  their  hearers  are  wishing  and  long- 
ing for  spiritual  food,  they  are  obliged  to  rest  content 
with  cold,  dry  lectures  on  morality,  enforced  by  any  mo- 
tives rather  than  evangelical.  These  ministers  content 
themselves,  generally,  with  pruning  off  some  of  the  most 
prominent  excrescences  of  vice  ;  they  leave  the  root  un- 
touched, and  cut  off  only  the  leaves.  The  more  I  think 
of  it,  the  more  difficult  does  the  duty  appear,  and  I  trem- 
ble at  the  thought  of  incurring  such  a  responsibility.  I 
fear,  however,  that  part  of  my  reluctance  arises  from  an 
indolent  disposition,  from  an  unwillingness  to  encounter 
the  fatigues,  the  difficulties,  and  dangers  attending  the 
performance  of  a  clergyman's  duty.  1  am  afraid  of  con- 
ferring too  much  with  flesh  and  blood." 

The  next  notices  which  he  has  left  of  himself  are  found 
in  a  manuscrpit  volume,  written  in  characters,  which  it 
has  been  a  long  and  difficult  work  to  decypher.  The  fol- 
lowing are  the  first  two  paragraphs  : 

"  July  25,  1805. — This  day,  being  my  twenty  second 
birth  day,  I  have  determined  to  commence  a  diary,  as  a 
check  on  the  misemployment  of  time." 

Same  date. — "  Having  resolved  this  day  to  dedicate  my- 
self to  my  Creator,  in  a  serious  and  solemn  manner,  by  a 
written  covenant,  I  took  a  review  of  my  past  life,  and  of 
the  numerous  mercies  by  which  it  has  been  distinguish- 
ed. Then  with  sincerity,  as  I  humbly  hope,  I  took  the 
Lord  to  be  my  God,  and  engaged  to  l©ve,  serve,  and  obey 


50 


aiEMUlR  UF 


liim.  Relying  on  the  assistance  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  I  en- 
gaged to  take  the  holy  Scriptures  as  the  rule  of  my  con- 
duct, the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  be  my  Saviour,  and  the 
Spirit  of  all  grace  and  consolation,  as  my  guide  and  sanc- 
tilier.    The  vows  of  God  are  upon  nie." 

Subsequent  entrances  in  his  diary  show  an  ever  active 
desire  to  '  pay  the  vows  which  his  lips  had  uttered.'  He 
made  strenuous  efforts  to  redeem  the  morning  hours  from 
sleep,  that  he  might  enjoy  an  uninterrupted  season  for 
reading  the  scriptures,  and  other  devotional  exercises ; 
and  when  he  failed  of  this,  he  suffered  much  in  conse- 
quence, and  lamented  it  with  deep  feeling.  His  diligence 
in  business,  as  well  as  fervor  of  spirit,  are  abundantly  ap- 
parent from  the  account  which  he  has  given  of  the  em- 
ployment of  every  hour,  from  four  in  the  morning  to  ten 
at  night. — In  a  letter  to  his  parents  written  on  this  anni- 
versary, he  speaks  of  having  already  '  paid  couyiderable 
attention  to  divinity,'  and  of  expecting,  '  in  another  year, 
to  commence  preaching,  if  he  should  feel  competent  to 
such  an  undertaking.' 

"Portland,  July  25,  1805. 

"  My  dear  Parents, 

"  This  day,  which  completes  my  twenty-second  year, 
renews  the  remembrance  of  the  numerous  claims  your 
continued  care  and  kindness  have  on  my  gratitude  and 
affection.  To  you,  next  to  my  heavenly  Father,  I  owe 
that  I  exist ;  that  I  am  in  a  situation  to  support  myself, 
and,  what  is  a  still  greater  obligation,  to  your  admonitions 
and  instructions  I  am  indebted  for  all  the  moral  and  re- 
ligious impressions  which  are  imprinted  in  my  mind ;  and 
which  I  hope,  under  God,  will  give  me  reason  to  love  and 
bless  you  through  eternity.  How  can  I  feel  sufficient 
gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  all  good  for  blessing  me  with 
such  parents  ;  and  how  can  I  thank  you  sufficiently  for 
all  the  kindness  you  have  lavished  upon  me,  as  yet  with- 
out return  ?  But  it  shall  be  the  study  of  my  life  to  show, 
that  I  am  not  utterly  devoid  of  every  sentiment  of  grati- 
tude and  duty.  Pardon  me,  my  dearest  Parents,  for  all 
the  pain,  the  trouble,  and  anxiety  I  have  given  you ;  and 
believe  me  while  I  promise,  never  knowingly  to  be  guilty 
of  any  thing,  to  increase  the  uneasiness  I  liave  already 


KUWARD  I'AYSON. 


51 


occasioned  you.  I  consider  it  as  one  of  my  greatest  bless- 
ings, that  I  am  now  in  a  situation  which  prevents  my  be- 
ing a  charge  to  you,  and  which  besides  might  enable 
me,  in  case  of  misfortune,  to  repay  some  small  part  of  the 
kindness  I  have  received.  I,  with  all  I  do  or  may  pos- 
sess, am  your  property — for  you  alone  put  me  in  a  situa- 
tion to  obtain  it.  And  if  there  be  any  thing,  (as  I  doubt 
not  there  is,)  which  would  contribute  to  your  happiness,  in 
my  power  to  procure  for  you,  I  most  earnestly  entreat  you 
to  let  me  know  it,  and  if  I  do  not,  with  the  utmost  pleas- 
ure, comply,  cast  me  off  as  an  ungrateful  wretch,  utterly 
unworthy  of  your  kindness  and  affection." 

Mr.  Payson  made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  Sep- 
tember I,  1805.  He  connected  himself  originally  with 
the  church  in  Rindge,  under  the  pastoral  care  of  his  fa- 
ther, while  on  a  visit  to  his  parents  during  one  of  his 
quarterly  vacations.  Of  his  exercises  in  the  near  pros- 
pect of  this  solemn  act,  not  a  memorial  remains.  The  rec- 
ord of  them  was  probably  destroyed  by  himself,  as  there 
is  a  hiatus  in  his  diary  from  about  a  m.onth  previous  to 
this  event  till  the  19th  of  January  following.  It  is  not  an 
omission,  but  an  obvious  mutilation.  The  only  direct  al- 
lusion to  this  public  dedication  of  himself  to  God  is  in  a 
letter  to  his  mother,  written  a  short  time  afterwards,  in 
which  he  say.s — "  As  yet  I  have  no  reason  to  repent  of 
the  step  I  took  while  at  home.  On  the  contrary,  I  esteem 
it  a  great  blessing,  that  no  obstacles  prevented  it."  He 
adds,  "  1  have  felt  wondrous  brave  and  resolute  since  my 
return  ;  but  I  rejoice  with  trembling.  If  I  know  any  thing 
of  myself,  I  shall  need  pretty  severe  discipline  through 
life,  and  I  often  shrink  at  the  thought  of  the  conflicts  that 
await  me,  but  am  encouraged  by  the  promise,  that  my 
strength  shall  be  equal  to  my  day."  Never  were  appre- 
hensions and  lio])es  more  signally  realized  He  who 
"  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,"  however,  reserv- 
ed the  bitterest  trials  for  a  confirmed  state  of  religious  ex- 
perience, mercifully  indulging  his  servant  with  the  light 
of  his  countenance,  and  a  peaceful  and  happy  progress  in 
his  pilgrimage,  in  its  earliest  stages.  Oct.  tith,  he  writes 
— "  1  know  it  will  add  to  your  happiness,  my  dear  moth- 
er, to  hear  that  I  possess  a  large  quantity  of  that  dpsira- 


52 


MKMOIR  OF 


ble  commodity.  Since  my  return  from  Rindge,  bating  a 
few  disagreeable  days  after  parting  with  my  friends,  I 
have  hardly  known  one  unhappy  moment.  The  doubts, 
which  formerly  obscured  my  mind,  are  diss^ipated ;  and  1 
have  enjoyed,  and  do  still  enjoy  mental  peace,  and  at 
times,  happiness  inexpressible.  When  I  am  thus  happy, 
it  renders  me  so  benevolent,  that  I  want  to  make  every 
one  partake  of  it,  and  can  hardly  forbear  preaching  to  ev- 
ery man  I  see.  At  the  same  time,  the  thought  of  what  I 
deserve,  compared  with  what  I  enjoy,  humbles  me  to  the 
dust ;  and  the  lower  I  get,  the  more  happy  do  I  feel.  And 
then  I  am  so  full  of  gratitude  and  love,  I  can  hardly  sup- 
port it.  My  only  source  of  unhappiness,  at  such  times, 
is,  the  moral  certainty,  that  I  shall  again  offend  that  God, 
who  is  so  infinitely,  so  condescendingly  kind.  This,  in- 
deed, seems  impossible  at  the  time ;  it  then  seems  that 
worldly  objects  cannot  possibly  again  acquire  an  undue 
influence  over  my  mind.  ****  To  think,  that  I  shall 
again  become  cold  and  inanimate,  that  I  shall  again  of- 
fend and  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit,  and,  perhaps,  be  left 
openly  to  dishonor  the  holy  name  by  which  I  am  called — 
my  dear  mother,  how  distressing!" 

"  Oct.  29. 

 "  These  wordly  comforts  are  nothing  to  the  seren- 
ity and  peace  of  mind  with  which  I  am  favored,  and  the 
happiness  arising  from  love,  gratitude,  and  confidence. 
Even  contrition  and  remorse  for  having  slighted  so  long 
such  infinite  and  condescending  mercy,  is  not  without  a 
pleasing  kind  of  pain.  But  I  know  this  state  of  things  is 
too  good  to  continue  long  ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  be  enabled 
to  take  up  with  a  much  smaller  number  of  the  comforts 
of  life  without  murmuring." 

In  a  letter,  dated  November  11th,  he  says,  "  The  hap- 
piness I  mentioned  in  my  last,  and  in  which  you  so  kind- 
ly participate,  I  still  enjoy,  though  diminished  in  some  de- 
gree by  an  examination  I  have  been  making  respecting 
some  important,  but  perplexing  truths." 

Some  weeks  after  this  he  wrote — "  I  did  not  intend  to 
say  another  word  about  my  feelings ;  but  I  must,  or  else 
cease  writing.    I  am  so  happy,  that  I  cannot  possibly 


EDWARD  PAY  SON. 


think,  nor  write  of  any  thing  else.  Such  a  glorious,  beau- 
tiful, consistent  scheme  for  the  redemption  of  such  miser- 
able wretches ;  such  infinite  love  and  goodness,  joined 
with  such  wisdom  !  I  would,  if  possible,  raise  my  voice, 
so  that  the  whole  universe  to  its  remotest  bounds  might 
hear  rae,  if  any  language  could  be  found  worthy  of  such  a 
subject.  How  transporting,  and  yet  how  humiliating, 
are  the  displays  of  divine  goodness,  which  at  some  favor- 
ed moments  we  feel !  What  happiness  in  humbling  our- 
selves in  the  dust,  and  confessing  our  sins  and  unworthi- 
ness !" 

A  solicitude  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  others,  which 
is  among  the  early  fruits  of  experimental  religion,  and  one 
of  the  most  pleasing  evidences  of  its  existence,  was  in 
Mr.  Payson  coeval  with  his  profession  of  the  faith  and 
hope  of  the  gospel.  Of  this  his  pupils,  as  was  to  be  ex- 
pected, were  always  the  most  interesting  objects. — Sep- 
tember 20th  he  writes,  "  Last  Saturday  I  gave  my  schol- 
ars six  questions  in  the  catechism,  and  a  hymn  to  commit 
to  memory,  on  the  Sabbath ;  and  on  Monday  morning,  af- 
ter hearing  them  recite,  I  lectured  them  on  the  subjects 
about  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  They  paid  strict  atten- 
tion. It  is,  however,  discouraging  to  attempt  any  thing 
of  this  kind,  and  a  most  lively  faith  alone  can  make  it  oth- 
erwise. Is  it  not  astonishing,  that  those  who  have  a  just 
sense  of  the  importance  of  religion,  are  not  more  earnest 
in  recommending  it  to  others  ?  One  would  suppose  they 
could  hardly  refrain  from  preaching  to  them  in  the 
streets.  The  reason  we  do  not  is,  we  have  not  a  just 
sense  of  it." 

October  29. 

"  I  hope  your  narrative — for  which  I  thank  you — will 
have  a  tendency  to  stir  me  up.  I  feel  a  strong  and  abi- 
ding impression  on  my  mind,  that  all  the  good  I  enjoy 
my  friends  were  stirred  up  to  pray  for ;  and  I  hope  I  and 
my  scholars  shall  reap  the  advantage  of  them  in  this  case. 
When  I  look  at  them  and  reflect  how  many  dangers  they 
are  exposed  to,  what  bad  examples  even  the  parents  of 
many  set  them,  and  how  few  hear  any  thing  like  religious 
instruction,  I  cannot  express  my  feelings.    Lately  I  fee! 


54 


MEMIMR  OS 


a  great  flow  of  words  when  addressing  them  ;  however,  it 
is  just  like  speaking  to  dry  bones,  unless  a  divine  blessing 
assist. — If  1  could  be  the  means  of  doing  good  only  to  one, 
what  transport  I  Thank  God,  it  does  not  depend  on  the 
means,  but  on  himself ;  otherwise  I  should  give  up  in 
despair." 

"  January  15,  1806. 
"  This  morning  I  was  highly  favored  in  speaking  to 
my  scholars.  I  spoke  nearly  three  quarters  of  an  hour, 
with  some  earnestness,  though  not  so  much  as  I  could 
have  wished.  Except  once,  I  have  felt  a  very  considera- 
ble share  of  freedom  on  these  occasions.  Your  mention- 
ing that  you  were  enabled  to  pray  for  a  blessing  on  these 
poor  endeavors,  has  been  a  great  encouragement  to  me. 
They  are  attentive,  and  a  very  perceptible  difference  has 
taken  place  in  their  attention  to  their  studies.  I  hope, 
that,  sooner  or  later,  they  will  become  attentive  to  more 
important  pursuits.  I  am  almost  afraid  to  write  even  to 
you,  my  dear  mother,  on  these  subjects,  lest  I  should 
make  sorie  gross  blunder,  through  my  ignorance  and  in- 
experience. I  have  often  observed  that  persons,  who  be- 
gin to  read  late  in  life,  are  apt  to  think  every  thing  they 
meet  with  in  books  as  new  to  others  as  it  is  to  them,  and 
so  make  themselves  ridiculous  by  retailing,  as  novelty, 
what  every  one  knew  before.  In  like  manner,  I  am 
somewhat  apprehensive  of  appearing  to  you,  in  mention- 
ing my  own  feelings,  as  one  who  is  detailing  last  year's 
news  ;  for  your  ideas  and  feelings  must  be  so  far  beyond 
mine,  that  it  will  require  some  patience  to  read  my  rela- 
tions. However  I  trust  to  your  goodness,  and  hope  you 
will  remember  that  many  things  which  are  now  plain  and 
common  were  once  dark  and  unusual  to  you.  I  am  pur- 
suing my  studies  pretty  much  at  random,  having  no  per- 
son to  advise  with." 

This  anxiety  for  the  souls  of  his  fellow  creatures,  mark- 
ed' his  intercourse  with  associates  of  the  same  standing 
with  himself  One  of  his  valued  companions  in  literary 
pursuits  has  furnished  the  following  extracts  : 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


55 


"  December  2,  1805. 
"  There  is  no  worldly  blessing  that  is  not  heightened 
by  religion,  but  none  more  so  than  friendship  ;  whether 
it  be  between  relatives  by  consanguinity,  or  those  who  are 
joined  in  marriage,  or  other  friends.  The  idea  of  part- 
ing must  embitter  the  pleasure  of  the  man  of  the  world ; 
but  the  Christian,  if  he  has  chosen  his  friends  aright,  may 
hope  to  enjoy  their  society  with  more  pleasure  hereafter 
than  he  can  now.  For  this  reason  I  never  should  choose 
a  partner  for  life,  whom  I  could  not  hope  to  meet  beyond 
the  tomb." 

"  December  9. 
"  You  ascribe,  my  friend,  too  much  to  age  and  a  culti- 
vated mind,  when  you  speak  of  them  as  inconsistent  with 
a  "  stupid  blindness  respecting  futurity."  Sad  experience 
shows,  that  age  the  most  mature,  and  minds  the  most  cul- 
tivated, are  too  often  under  the  operation  of  such  a  blind- 
ness. Who,  among  the  walks  of  science,  ambition,  ava- 
rice, or  pleasure,  is  not  blind  to  his  own  mortality  \  Who 
is  there  that  sees  that  every  hour  of  his  life,  he  infringes 
that  law  which  says,  "  cursed  is  every  one  that  continu- 
eth  not  in  all  things  written  therein  to  do  them  ?"  Who 
sees  that  his  brittle  thread  of  life  is  all  on  which  he  hangs 
over  endless  misery  ?  and  that  if  any  one  of  tlie  many  dan; 
gers  to  which  he  is  exposed  should  be  permitted  to  crush 
him,  he  would,  in  a  moment,  be  the  subject  of  despair? 
No  age,  no  improvement  of  the  inind,  will  make  us  see 
these  truths  to  be  such.  We  may  assent  to  them,  but  our 
conduct  shows  we  do  not  believe  tliem.  You  do  not  yet, 
my  friend,  know  the  difficulty  of  the  task.  Consider, 
first,  that  the  divine  law  extends  to  the  tiioughts,  and  that 
it  makes  no  allowance  for  human  infirmity,  and  then  shut 
yourself  up  alone,  out  of  the  reach  of  temptation,  and  try 
for  one  hour  to  be  innocent ;  and  you  will  find  by  the 
numberless  foolish  thoughts,  and  vicious  propensities  aris- 
ing in  your  mind,  that  it  is  no  easy  thing  to  be  negatively 
good.  When,  in  addition  to  this,  you  consider  that  sins 
of  omission  are  equally  fatal  with  sins  of  commission,  you 
must  certainly,  if  you  know  any  thing  of  your  own  heart, 
give  up  in  despair.  .  I  write  this  not  to  discourage  you, 
but  to  urge  the  immediate  commencement  of  a  work  so 
difficult  and  so  important ;  but  still  more,  to  induce  you 


56 


IttEMOIU  OF 


to  apply  to  One  who  can  give  you  strength,  and  will  give 
it,  if"  asked  for  m  a  full  conviction  of  your  own  weakness. 
You  know  nothing  of  your  own  heart ;  and  though  you  may 
not  assent  to  this  now,  the  time,  I  hope  and  trust,  will 
come,  when  you  will  assent  to  it.  You  may  not  now  be- 
lieve that  naturally,  like  all  others,  you  are  an  enemy  to 
God  and  his  goodness — but  you  must  assent  to  it." 

"  Februartj  26,  1806. 
"  It  has  been  often  observed,  and  it  is  an  observation 
shown  by  experience  to  be  just,  that  those  who  have  once 
entertained  serious  impressions  and  lost  them,  are  much 
less  liable  to  have  their  attention  again  turned  to  them, 
than  those  who  have  always  been  thoughtless  and  uncon- 
cerned. However  we  may  flatter  and  deceive  ourselves 
with  an  idea  that  we  shall  hnd  more  favorable  opportuni- 
ties than  our  age  affords,  it  is  certain,  if  we  may  believe 
all  who  have  gone  before  us,  that  we  now  have  fewer 
temptations,  and  fewer  difficulties  of  all  kinds  to  struggle 
with,  than  we  shall  have  at  any  future  period  of  our  lives, 
even  supposing  it  certain  they  may  be  prolonged  to  us." 

"  Mmj  8. 

"  Take  my  word  for  it,  there  is  inexpressibly  more  en- 
joyment in  religion  in  this  life,  than  the  most  happy  sin- 
ner since  creation  ever  had  to  boast  of.  It  appears  gloomy 
at  a  distance,  but  the  nearer  it  approaches,  tiie  more  de- 
lightful it  becomes.  You  know  that  I  a)n  of  a  social  turn, 
that  I  enjoy  or  did  enjoy  amusements  about  as  well  as 
others  did  ,  and  that  I  have  no  particular  reason  for  fly- 
ing from  them.  You  know,  too,  that  I  love  you,  and  would 
promote  your  interest  to  the  extent  of  my  powers.  You 
may  then  consider  me,  if  you  are  so  disposed,  an  impar- 
tial witness,  that  the  ways  of  wisdom  are  ways  of  pleas- 
antness and  all  her  paths  peace.  I  hope  and  believe  that 
your  own  feelings  may  attest  the  truth  of  my  testimony. 
That  you  may  know  more  and  more  of  it,  is  the  sincere 
prayer  of  your  friend." 

"  July  7. 

"  I  dare  pledge  any  thing  most  dear  to  me,  that  if  you 
persist  in  the  diligent  use  of  the  means  suggested,  you 
shall  not  long  use  them  in  vain.    But,  what  is  infinitely 


EDWARD  t-AVSON. 


57 


more  to  the  purpose,  you  have  the  oath  of  Ilim  who  cannot 
lie^  on  which  to  ground  your  hopes.  You  have  nothing 
to  do  but  to  ask  for  faith,  to  come  as  the  leper  did  to  our 
Saviour  while  on  earth,  and  throw  yourself  at  his  feet, 
with — "  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me  clean  ;" 
and  rest  assured  that  he  will  put  forth  his  hand  and  say, 
"  I  will  ;  be  thou  clean."  He  is  still  as  able  and  as  wil- 
ling, *  #  *  *  »  to  grant  every  request  of  this  na- 
ture as  he  was  on  earth.  If  you  really  feel  yourself  a  sin- 
ner, and  that  you  have  no  power  to  save  yourself,  and  are 
willing  to  accept  of  him  as  a  Saviour,  he  is  ready  to  re- 
ceive you.  Do  not  wait,  before  you  accept  his  offers,  to 
render  yourself  worthy  of  his  favor  by  going  about  to  es- 
tablish a  righteousness  of  your  own.  He  will  not  be  a 
half  Saviour.  He  will  do  all  or  nothing.  If  you  mean 
to  come  to  him,  you  must  come  as  a  helpless  sinner.  Not 
as  the  pharisee,  with  a  list  of  virtuous  deeds  performed  ; 
but  as  the  publican,  with — "  Lord,  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner." 

Scarcely  two  months  had  elapsed  from  the  time  he 
made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  before  Mr.  Payson 
felt  his  mind  embarrassed  in  relation  to  the  doctrines  of 
the  Bible,  as  understood  by  Calvinists.  The  first  intima- 
tion of  this  perplexity  is  in  the  following  words  : 

"  I  have  lately  read  Cole's  Discourses.  It  is  a  very 
comfortable  doctrine  for  the  elect,  but  not  so  for  the  sin- 
ner. My  feelings  say  it  is  true,  but  reason  wants  to  put 
in  an  oar.  It  is  at  once  encouraging  and  discouraging  to 
ministers." 

November  11,  1805. 
"  I  mentioned  in  a  former  letter,  that  I  had  been  read- 
ing Cole.  Since  that,  I  have  studied  with  considerable 
attention  Edwards  on  the  M^ill,  and  his  treatise  on  Orig- 
inal Sin.  I  know  not  what  to  do.  On  one  hand,  the  ar- 
guments in  favor  of  Calvinism  are  strong;  and,  what  is 
more  to  the  point,  I  feel,  that  most  of  them  must  be  true  ; 
and  yet  there  are  difficulties,  strong  difficulties,  both  from 
reason  and  scripture,  in  the  way.  These  contradictory 
evidences  so  pull  me  about,  that,  had  I  nothing  more  than 


58 


MEMOIR  OF 


argument  and  reason  in  favor  of  my  religion,  I  would  give 
it  all  up  together.  At  the  same  time,  I  care  very  little 
about  it,  as  it  concerns  myself  But  to  think  that  so  ma- 
ny of  mankind  must  be  miserable,  strikes  me  with  disa- 
greeable feelings.  I  wonder  not,  that  the  unregenerate 
are  so  bitterly  opposed  to  these  doctrines  and  their  pro- 
fessors, nor  that  they  appear  to  them  as  the  effects  of 
bliudness  and  superstition.  Poor  Dr.  M.  is  sadly  abused 
on  this  account,  and  the  most  consummate  scoundrel  in 
existence  could  not  merit  worse  epithets,  than  the  clergy 
of  *****  *  heap  on  him.  I  find  however,  that  I 
have  much  clearer  views  of  the  grand  scheme  of  redemp- 
tion than  I  had,  and  as  it  relates  to  myself,  it  appears  a 
miracle  of  love  and  mercy  for  which  I  never  can  feel, 
comparatively  speaking,  any  gratitude.  But  with  respect 
to  others,  it  does  not  appear  altogether  so  excellent.  I 
cannot,  however,  complain  of  any  doubts  of  the  truth  of 
these  points,  more  than  I  have  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible ; 
but  I  cannot  reconcile  them.  I  should  make  poor  work 
at  preaching  in  my  present  state  of  mind ;  for  I  could 
neither  advance  such  doctrines,  nor  let  them  alone.  Thus 
I  am  perplexed.  I  feel  that  they  are  true  ;  yet  seem  to 
know  it  is  impossible  they  should  be  so.  I  never  would 
meddle  with  them,  were  I  not  in  some  measure  obliged 
to,  by  the  profession  I  have  chosen.  I  almost  long  for 
death,  that  the  apparent  contradictions  may  be  reconcil- 
ed." 

There  were  practical  questions,  also,  scarcely  less  em- 
barrassing to  his  mind,  and  which  it  required  no  small  skill 
in  Christian  casuistry  to  determine.  On  account  of  hie 
situation,  as  well  as  the  inexliaustible  fund  of  entertain- 
ment, which  he  could  carry  into  company,  he  was  fre- 
quently solicited  to  make  one  of  a  visiting  party,  and  to 
mingle  in  society  on  various  occasions.  The  nature  of 
the  trials  hence  arising,  as  well  as  their  issue,  will  be 
seen  from  a  few  extracts : 

"  After  long  doubting  the  propriety,  and  even  the  law- 
fulness of  mixing  at  all  in  society,  where  duty  does  not 
Ball;  and  aftei  smarting  a  number  of  times  for  indulging 
myself  in  it, — more,  however,  through  fear  of  offending, 


EOWAHD  PAYSON. 


59 


than  for  any  pleasure  I  find  in  it, — I  am,  at  length, 
brought  to  renounce  it  entirely  ;  and  it  is  not  a  needless 
scrupulosity.  It  does  appear  a  duty  to  shun  all  commu- 
nication with  the  world,  when  there  is  no  well  grounded 
reason  to  hope  to  do  good.  There  are,  to  be  sure,  many 
very  plausible  reasons,  but  I  doubt  whether  they  will  bear 
the  test  of  scripture." 

To  one  who  urged  him  to  go  into  society  and  frequent 
pui)lic  amusements,  he  wrote  : 

"  Can  a  man  walk  on  pilch  and  his  feet  not  be  defiled? 
Can  a  man  take  coals  of  fire  in  his  bosom,  and  his  clothes 
not  be  burned  ?  If  he  can,  he  may  then  mix  freely  with 
the  world  and  not  be  contaminated.  But  I  am  not  the  one 
who  can  do  it.  I  cannot  think  it  proper  or  expedient  lor 
a  Christian  to  go  into  any  company,  unless  necessity  calls 
— where  he  may,  perhaps,  hear  the  name  he  loves  and  rev- 
erences, blasphemed,  or  at  least  profaned  ;  where  that 
book,  which  he  esteems  the  word  of  God,  will,  if  mention- 
ed, be  alluded  to  only  to  waken  laughter,  or  "  adorn  a 
tale  ;" — where  the  laws  of  good  breeding  are  almost  the 
only  laws,  which  may  not  be  broken  with  impunity  ;  and 
where  every  thing  he  hears  or  sees  has  a  strong  tendency 
to  extinguish  the  glow  of  devotion,  and  entirely  banish  se- 
riousness. I  speak  only  for  myself  Others  may  experi- 
ence no  bad  effects  ;  but,  for  myself,  when  I  go  into  com- 
pany, if  it  is  j)leasant  and  agreeable,  it  has  a  tendency  on- 
ly to  fix  my  thoughts  on  earth,  from  which  it  is  my  duty 
and  my  desire  to  turn  them  ;  to  give  me  a  distaste  for  se- 
rious duties,  especially  prayer  and  meditation,  and  to  ren- 
der me  desirous  of  the  applause  and  approbation  of  those, 
with  whom  I  associate.  I  cannot  avoid  feeling  some  de- 
sire for  its  friendship  ;  and  this  friendship,  the  apostle  as- 
sures us,  and  my  own  experience  feelingly  convinces  me, 
is  enmity  wit-ii  God." 

— "  I  have  at  length  obtained  satisfaction  respecting 
my  doubts  about  society  ;  not,  however,  till  1  was  brought 
to  give  it  up.  After  I  had  done  so,  it  appeared  so  plain 
and  proper,  that  I  wondered  how  a  doubt  could  ever  have 
arisen  on  this  subject.  Now  I  shall  hardly  see  a  person 
in  a  week,  except  our  own  family,  and  I  have  no  doubt 


60 


MEMOIR  OF 


of  being  much  happier  for  it.  Two  or  three  plain  rules 
I  find  of  wonderful  service  in  deciding  all  diificult  cases. 
One  is,  to  do  nothing,  of  which  I  doubt  in  any  deg  ree  the 
the  lawfulness ;  the  second,  to  consider  every  thing  as 
unlawful,  which  indisposes  me  for  prayer,  and  interrupts 
communion  with  God ;  and  the  third  is,  never  to  go  into 
any  company,  business,  or  situation,  in  which  I  cannot 
conscientiously  ask  and  expa  t  the  divine  presence.  By 
the  help  of  these  three  rules  I  settle  all  my  doubts  in  a 
trice,  and  find  that  many  things  I  have  hitherto  indulged 
in,  are,  if  not  utterly  unlawful,  at  least  inexpedient,  and 
I  can  renounce  them  without  many  sighs." 

Referring  to  the  dangers  inseparable  fi-om  worldly  so- 
ciety, he  incidentally  mentions  one  defence  against  their 
influence,  which  was  only  imaginary  :  "  1  consider  it  a 
blessing,  or  endeavor  to  do  so,  that  I  do  not  possess 
those  talents  for  shining  in  company,  which  are  so  apt 
to  lead  their  possessors  into  too  great  a  fondness  for  gay 
and  brilliant  society.  Yet  I  confess,  Jliough  I  am  sensi- 
ble they  would  prove  a  snare  to  me,  I  am  sometimes 
tempted  to  repine  at  the  want  of  them  and  the  grant  of 
all  my  wishes  would  soon  render  me  the  most  miserable 
of  beings."  The  circumstances  in  which  this  was  writ- 
ten, preclude  all  suspicion  of  its  being  the  language  of 
affectation. 

His  determination  to  exclude  himself  fi-om  company, 
was  very  conscientiously  formed ;  and  so  far  was  he  from 
making  his  own  practice  a  law  for  oftiers,  in  this  matter, 
he  expressly  assigns  his  "  weakness  and  inexperience," 
as  the  reason  why  he  "  could  not  indulge  in  society,  with- 
out detriment."  Besides,  situated  as  he  was,  he  saw 
"  no  medium  between  the  life  of  a  hermit,  and  that  of  a 
votary  of  pleasure."  If  such  were  the  alternative,  his  de- 
cision is  to  be  approved ;  it  resulted  from  a  right  applica- 
tion of  his  "three  plain  rules,"  which  are  certainly  scrip- 
tural, and  worthy  of  universal  adoption.  This  course  was 
not  the  fruit  of  misanthropic  feelings  ;  for  no  man  was 
more  susceptible  of  the  delights  of  friendship,  or  more 
highly  appreciated  its  benefits ;  but  how  "  can  two  walk 
together,  except  they  be  agreed  ?"  His  heart  now  sighed 
for  friendships  founded  on  a  religious  basis.    He  speaks 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


61 


of  "  a  friend,  with  whom  he  could  converse  on  religious 

subjects,  as  having  long  been  a  desideratum  ;"  and  when 
he  thougiit  he  had  found  such  a  one  among  his  former 
beloved  asssociates,  he  expresses  the  most  ardent  grati- 
tude to  the  Giver  of  every  good  gift.  "  I  feel  a  satisfac- 
tion," he  writes,  "  on  this  discovery,  similar  to  what  I 
should  feel  at  meeting  a  townsman  in  a  desert  island. 
You,  who  live  in  the  midst  of  Christian  friends,  can  hard- 
ly conceive  of  it.  Associates  are  pleasant  in  any  pursuit, 
but  especially  so  in  this.  Two  are  t)etter  tlian  one.  We 
shall  together  be  better  able  to  stand  our  ground  against 
the  assaults  of  ridicule  and  reproach ;  and  may  animate 
and  encourage  each  other  in  our  course. 

Having,  in  a  letter  to  his  mother,  expressed  himself  as 
ready  to  give  almost  any  thing  he  possessed  lor  an  "  expe- 
rienced friend,"  he  anticipates  her  reply — "  You  will  say, 
perhaps,  the  Bible  is  a  friend,  which,  if  duly  consulted, 
would  supersede  the  necessity  of  any  other  adviser.  It 
may  be  so ;  but  we  are  apt  to  be  bad  commentators, 
where  we  are  concerned  ourselves.  A  friend  can  judge 
of  our  concerns,  and  give  us  better  counsel,  than,  per- 
haps, he  would  give  himself  We  are  but  poor  casuists 
in  our  own  affairs." 

Some  miscellaneous  extracts  will  now  be  given. 

"  December  8,  1805. 
"  Though  I  have  experienced  many  and  great  com- 
forts, yet  I  am  at  times  alinost  discouraged.  My  heart 
seems  to  be  a  soil  so  bad,  that  all  labor  is  thrown  away 
upon  it ;  for,  instead  of  growing  better,  it  grows  worse. 
What  a  wearisome  task,  or  rather  conflict,  it  is,  to  be  al- 
ways fighting  witli  an  enemy,  whom  no  defeats  can  weak- 
en or  tire.  I  am  afraid,  that  many  of  my  desires  to  be  de- 
livered from  his  power  proceed  rather  from  a  sinful  im- 
patience, than  a  better  source.  But  it  is  most  distressing, 
when  favored  with  manifestations  of  a  Saviour's  love,  to 
^think  we  shall  again  sin  against  and  grieve  him  ;  espe- 
cially in  the  sacrament  of  the  supper,  the  idea  that  I  shall 
certainly  go  away  and  offend  him,  who  is  there  set  forth 
crucified  before  me,  embitters  all  my  happiness." 


6 


02 


MF.AIOIR  OF 


"  December  25. 

*'  My  dear  Sister 

"  I  am  not  very  prone  to  indulge  the  idea  that  my  hap- 
piness can  depend  on  cliange  of  place  ;  but  when  such 
fancies  do  gain  a.imittance,  home  is  always  the  scene  of 
my  imaginary  bliss.  It  is  however  a  remedy  to  consider, 
that,  however  we  may  be  separated  from  our  friends  in 
this  world,  yet  if  we  choose  them  aright,  we  may  indulge 
the  hope  of  spending  an  eternity  together  in  the  next. 

"  I  have  of  late  taken  some  pleasure  in  recollecting  the 
pilgrimages  of  our  old  friend  Bunyan,  and  see  a  striking 
propriety  in  many  parts  of  them  which  I  did  not  then 
rightly  understand.  For  sometime  past  I  have  been  with 
Tender  Conscience  in  the  caves  of  Good  Resolution  and 
Contemplation,  and  like  him  fell  into  the  clutches  of  Spir- 
itual Pride.  It  is  astonishing,  and  what  nothing  but  sad 
experience  could  make  us  believe,  that  satan  and  a  cor- 
rupt heart,  should  have  the  art  of  extracting  the  most  dan- 
gerous poison  from  those  things  which  apparently  would, 
and  certainly  ought  to,  have  the  most  beneficial  effects. 
If  I  do  not,  after  all,  fall  into  the  hands  of  old  Carnal  Se- 
curity, I  shall  have  reason  to  be  thankful.  There  is  such 
a  fascination  in  the  magic  circle  of  worldly  pleasures  and 
pursuits,  as  can  hardly  be  conceived,  without  experience  ; 
and  I  am  astonished  and  vexed,  to  find  its  influence  con- 
tinually thwarting  and  hindering  me.  And  so  many  plau- 
sible excuses  are  perpetually  suggesting  themselves,  that 
compliance  can  hardly  be  avoided." 

"  January  25. 

"  My  dear  Mother, 

"  In  one  of  the  classics,  which  form  part  of  my  daily 
occupation,  there  is  an  account  of  a  tyrant,  who  used  to 
torture  his  subjects,  by  binding  them  to  dead  bodies,  and 
leaving  them  to  perish  by  an  unnatural  and  painful  death. 
I  have  often  thought  the  situation  of  a  Christian  is,  in 
some  respects,  like  that  of  these  poor  wretches.  Bound  to 
a  loathsouie  body  of  sin,  from  which  death  alone  can  free 
him,  and  obliged  daily  to  experience  effects  from  it,  not 
much  less  painful  and  displeasing  to  him  than  the  stench 
of  a  putrefying  carcase  was  to  those  who  were  united  to  it, 
he  must  suflfer  almost  continual  torment.    I  have  lately 


EOWARD  PAYSON. 


63 


felt  doubtful  how  far  a  due  resignation  to  the  divine  will 
obliges  us  to  submit  with  patience  to  this  most  painful  of 
all  trials ;  and,  since  we  know  that  perfection  is  not  grant- 
ed to  anv  in  this  world,  how  far  we  ought  to  extend  our 
prayers  and  wishes.  I  know  there  is  little  danger  of  be- 
ing too  much  engaged  in  seeking  deliverance  from  sin  ; 
but  is  there  no  danger  of  that  fretful  impatience,  which 
we  are  apt  to  feel  on  other  occasions,  gaining  admittance 
under  the  appearance  of  an  earnest  desire  for  holiness  ? 
And  is  not  indolence,  and  a  wish  to  be  freed  from  the  ne- 
cessity of  continual  watchfulness  and  conflict,  apt  to  in- 
sinuate itself  into  our  desires  and  petitions  for  divine  as- 
sistance 1.  Sin  is  a  sly  traitor  ,  and  it  is  but  lately  I  discov- 
ered it  in  my  bosom  ;  and  now  I  am  so  much  afraid  of  it, 
that  I  hardly  dare  ask  assistance  at  all. 

"  For  this  month  past  I  have  enjoyed  very  little  of  that 
happiness  which  I  once  rejoiced  in.  Yet,  blessed  be  God  ! 
I  am  not  left  utterly  dead  and  stupid,  and  am  enabled  to 
persevere  in  the  use  of  means,  though  they  seldom  seem 
so  productive  of  peace  as  they  once  did.  I  hope  I  have 
clearer  ideas  of  my  strong,  amazingly  strong  propensity 
to  every  thing  that  is  evil,  and  of  the  infinite  and  glorious 
sufficiency  of  my  Saviour,  than  I  had  while  my  joys  were 
greater.  Then  I  was  ready  to  flatter  myself  that  sin  was 
destroyed  ;  but  now  I  find,  by  sad  experience,  it  is  not 
only  alive,  but  extremely  active  ;  and  had  I  not  an  al- 
mighty helper,  I  should  instantly  give  up  in  despair." 

"  Portland,  Feb.  9,  1806. 

"  My  dear  Mother, 

"  For  many  reasons,  it  is  impossible  that  my  letters 
should  be  so  acceptable  at  home,  as  those  I  receive  from 
home  are  to  me.  You  have  friends  there,  to  divide  your 
attention,  to  participate  in  your  care,  and  to  share  and  in- 
crease your  plea.sures.  But  I  am  alone.  All  my  aftec- 
tions  must  centre  at  home,  and,  consequently,  I  must  feel 
a  greater  desire  to  hear  from  home,  and  to  receive  assu- 
rances that  I  am  not  forgotten,  than  niy  friends  can  possi- 
bly have,  to  hear  from  me. 

"  I  find  nobody,  except  at  times,  to  whom  I  cun  com- 
municate my  joys,  hopes,  desires,  and  fears  ;  nobody, 
who  can  participate  my  pleasures,  or  sympathiBC  in  my 


G4 


MEMOIR  OF 


griefs.  It  is,  perhaps,  best  for  me  that  it  should  be  so ; 
but  it  is  very  unpleasant.  Most  of  my  acquaintance  con- 
sider me,  as  near  as  I  can  guess,  but  a  kind  of  hypocrite, 
who  must,  as  a  student  in  divinity,  preserve  a  decent  ex- 
terior, in  order  to  be  respected.  However,  it  is  some  con- 
solation, that  they  think  the  same  of  every  one  else.  Their 
opinion  is  of  very  trifling  consequence.  One  thing  only 
I  wish  not  to  be  thought,  and  that  is,  what  is  commonly 
called  a  rational  Christian,  an  epithet  which  is  very  fre- 
quently bestowed  on  young  candidates,  and  which  is  al- 
most synonymous  with  no  Christian.  Liberal  divines  are 
pretty  much  of  the  same  character." 

"  Portland,  April  1,  1S06. 

"  My  dear  Mother, 

"I  am  now  entirely  alone,  and  except  a  visit  once  a 
fortnight  from  Mr.  R.  I  see  no  face  within  my  chamber, 
from  one  week  to  another.  It  is  sometimes  unpleasant, 
but  I  believe  very  profitable,  to  be  debarred  from  society. 
,1  am  so  prone  to  trust  to  broken  cisterns,  that  nothing, 
but  their  being  out  of  my  reach,  can  restrain  me.  When 
I  come  home  from  school,  weary  and  dull,  if  I  had  any 
earthly  friends  at  hand,  I  should  certainly  apply  to  them 
for  relief;  but  not  having  any,  lam  constrained  to  go 
where  I  am  much  more  sure  of  finding  it.  I  begin  to  find 
that  the  smiles,  with  which  my  early  infancy  was  support- 
ed, are  changing  for  the  less  agreeable,  but  certainly  not 
less  needful,  discipline  of  education  ;  and  O,  what  severe 
discipline,  and  how  much  of  it,  shall  I  require  !  I  see  al- 
ready, that  hard  fare,  and  hard  labor,  will  be  necessary  to 
preserve  me  fi-om  '  waxing  fat  and  kicking;'  and  if  it  has 
this  effect,  I  shall  welcome  it  with  pleasure.  It  seems  to 
rne  one  of  the  worst  of  the  hellish  offspring  of  fallen  na- 
ture, that  it  should  have  such  a  tendency  to  pride,  and 
above  all,  spiritual  pride.  How  many  artifices  does  it  con- 
trive to  hide  itself.  If,  at  any  time,  I  am  favored  with 
clearer  discoveries  of  my  natural  and  acquired  depravity 
and  hatefulness  ia  the  sight  of  God,  and  am  enabled  to 
mourn  over  it,  in  comes  spiritual  pride,  with — "  Aye,  this 
is  somethini  like  !  this  is  holy  mourning  for  sin:  this  is 
true  hnmility."  If  I  happen  to  detect  and  spurn  at  these 
thouglits,  immediately  he  changes  his  battery  and  begins. 


EJJWARf)  I'AYSON. 


G5 


''  Another  person  would  have  indulged  those  feelings,  and 
imagined  he  was  really  humble,  but  you  know  better  ; 
vou  can  detect  and  banish  pride  at  once,  as  you  ought  to 
do."  Thus  this  hateful  enemy  continually  harasses  me. 
What  a  proof  that  the  heart  is  the  native  soil  of  pride, 
when  it  thus  contrives  to  gather  strength  from  those  very 
exercises,  which,  one  would  think,  must  destroy  it  utterly. 

"  My  other  chief  besetting  sin,  which  will  cut  out 
abundance  of  work  for  me,  is  fondness  for  applause. 
When  I  sit  down  to  write,  this  demon  is  immediately  in 
the  way,  prompting  to  seek  for  such  observations  as  will 
be  admired,  rather  than  such  as  will  be  felt,  and  have  a 
tendency  to  do  good.  My  proneness  to  these  two  evils, 
which  I  have  mentioned,  makes  me  think  I  shall  have 
but  little  sensible  comfort  in  this  world,  and  that  I  shall 
be  tried  by  many  and  grievous  afflictions,  in  order  to  keep 
me  humble  and  dependant.  However,  it  is  of  no  conse- 
quence. I  know  my  great  Physician  is  both  able  and  wil- 
ling to  cure  me,  and  I  leave  the  manner  to  him  ;  trusting 
he  will  enable  me  to  take  whatever  he  prescribes,  and 
bless  the  prescription." 

"  Portland,  June  17,  1806. 

My  dear  Mother, 

"  After  I  have  told  you  that  I  have  been  unwell  some 
time  past,  and  that  I  am  now  as  well  as  usual,  my  stock 
of  information  is  exhausted — unless  indeed  I  still  make 
myself  (he  subject;  and  for  want  of  a  better  I  must.  Ow- 
ing partly,  I  believe,  to  my  ill  healtli,  I  have  been  much 
ainicted  with  doubt,  whether  it  is  not  my  duty  to  give  up 
preaching  at  all.  I  want,  at  times,  to  get  as  far  back  into 
the  country  as  possible,  and,  on  a  little  farm,  lead  a  life  as 
much  remote  from  observation  as  circumstances  will  al- 
low. It  seems  to  me  a  little  remarkable,  that,  while  I 
arn  harassed  with  doubts  and  perplexities  about  every 
thing  else,  I  feel  none,  or  comparatively  none,  about  my 
own  state.  If  at  any  time  such  doubts  intruded,  they 
were  banished  by  that  text,  "  I  am  he  that  blotteth  out 
thy  transgressions,  for  mine  otmi  sake."  But,  lately,  the 
very  absence  of  doubt  has  caused  me  to  doubt ;  for  if  I 
were  a  child  of  God,  how  shouhl  I  be  free  from  those 
doubts,  which  trouble  them  ?    But  the  greatest  diffi«ulty 


6<» 


MEMUIR  OF 


of  all  is,  that  the  certainty,  which  I  almost  ever  feel  of  my 
safety,  should  have  no  more  elfect  on  my  disposition  and 
conduct.  This  seems  to  me  more  unaccountable,  than 
any  thing  else  ;  for  even  the  de\  ils,  one  would  think, 
might,  and  would  rejoice  to  think  of  approaching  happi- 
ness. 

"  I  have,  for  some  time,  had  something  like  a  desire  to 
become  a  missionary.  I  have  not  mentioned  it  before, 
because  I  doubted  whether  it  would  not  be  only  a  tempo- 
rary wish.  I  should  feel  less  backward  to  preach  to  sav- 
ages, or  white  men  little  above  savages,  than  any  where 
else.  However  I  liope  Providence  will,  some  way  or  oth- 
er, get  me  into  the  place  where  I  shall  be  most  useful,  be 
it  what  it  may.  I  do  not  feel  very  solicitous  in  which 
way  or  in  what  situation. 

"  I  shall  be  in  Boston  about  the  23d  of  August,  and, 
after  commencement,  set  out  for  Rindge,  should  nothing 
prevent.  At  present  I  can  write  no  more.  The  bearer 
is  booted,  whipped,  chaired  and  waiting. 

"  Present  my  most  affectionate  regards  to  Pa'.  I  shall 
make  great  encroachments  on  his  time,  when  I  come 
home.  Your  affectionate  Son. 

"E.  PAYSON." 

A  desire  to  become  a  missionary,  in  1806,  was  a  less 
dubious  proof  of  expansive  Christian  benevolence,  than  it 
would  be  at  the  present  day.  The  obligation  of  Christians 
to  send  the  gospel  to  the  Heathen  could  not  have  been 
learned  from  any  thing  which  the  American  church  was 
then  doing,  or  had  done,  for  a  long  period.  As  to  any 
visible  movement,  she  appeared  as  indifferent  to  the 
claims  of  the  anevangelized  tribes  of  men,  as  though  her 
Redeemer  and  Lord  had  not  left  it  in  charge,  to  "  preach 
the  gospel  to  every  creature."  Mr.  Payson  was  probably 
ignorant  that  another  youthful  bosom  in  the  country  pant- 
ed with  the  same  desire  ;  though  it  was  about  this  time,  if 
not  in  this  very  year — a  coincidence,  which  they  who  re- 
gard the  works  of  the  Lord  and  the  operation  of  his  hands 
will  notice  with  pleasure, — that  Samuel  J.  Mills  felt  the 
desire  and  formed  the  purpose  to  devote  his  life  to  the  ser- 
vice of  Christ  among  the  Heathen — a  purpose,  however. 


EDWARD  FAYSnN. 


G7 


which  was  known,  first  to  his  mother,  and  then  to  a  few 
individu<ils  only,  till  about  four  years  afterwards. 

In  the  extracts  which  have  been  inserted  from  his  let- 
ters, the  reader  has  discovered  his  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  subtle  workings  of  the  human  heart,  and  his  un- 
sleeping vigilance  to  detect,  and  guard  against  its  impo- 
sitions. His  self-knowledge,  and  the  rigid  self-inspection 
which  he  habitually  maintained,  would  appear  in  a  still 
more  striking  light  from  his  private  diary,  if  that  were 
spread  before  the  public  eye.  Neither  friends  nor  foes 
could  name  a  fault  in  him,  which  he  had  not  detected, 
and  condemned  in  terms  of  unsparing  severity.  They 
would  find  their  severest  judgments  anticipated  ;  and 
they  would  find  too — what  the  world  little  suspects  of  the 
Christian — that  the  smallest  trespasses  were  the  cause  of 
heart-felt  lamentation  and  grief  in  those  hours  of  secret 
retirement,  when  no  eye  but  Jehovah's  was  witness  to  his 
sorrow.  In  his  example  the  young  aspirant  for  fame  might 
see  an  illustration  of  the  wise  man's  maxim,  "  before  hon- 
or is  humility  ;"  and  that  the  surest  path  to  an  enduring 
reputation  is  found  by  "  asking  counsel  of  God,"  and 
"  acknowledging  him  in  all  our  ways."  Faithfulness,  ei- 
ther to  the  dead  or  the  living,  cannot,  however,  require, 
that  a  very  free  use  should  be  made  of  the  record  of  what 
passed  in  the  inward  sanctuary  of  his  soul — a  record,  ob- 
viously designed  for  his  private  use  only,  and  in  charac- 
ters intended  to  be  illegible  by  every  eye  except  his  own. 
So  much  will,  nevertheless,  be  inserted,  as  is  necessary  to 
substantiate  the  repre.sentations  in  this  narrati\e,  or  dis- 
close important  facts  in  his  history,  which  could  be  learn- 
ed from  no  other  source. 


EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  DIARY. 

"  Fih.  5,  1806. — For  this  fortnight  past  I  have  enjoyed 
a  tolerable  share  of  assistance,  but  nothing  transporting. 
Slow  progress. 

"F'b.l. — Little  opportunity  for  prayer  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  yet  God  was  pleased  not  wholly  to  desert  me  during 
the  day,  and,  in  the  evening,  favored  me  with  clearer  views 
of  the  glorious  all-sufficiency  of  my  Saviour,  and  of  my 


68 


ME>fOIR  OF 


absolute  need  of  him,  than  I  have  before  experienced.  I 
could,  in  some  measure,  feel  that  my  deepest  humiliation 
was  rank  pride,  and  all  that  I  am  or  can  do,  is  sin.  Yet, 
blessed  be  God,  I  can  plead  the  sufferings  and  perfect  obe- 
dience of  Jesus  Christ,  in  whom,  though  weak  in  myself, 
I  am  strong. 

"  Feb.  8. — There  is  no  vice,  of  which  I  do  not  see  the 
seeds  in  myself,  and  which  would  bear  fruit,  did  not  grace 
prevent.  Notwithstanding  this,  I  am  perpetually  pulling 
the  mote  out  of  my  brother's  eye. 

"  Feb.  9. — Was  much  favored  in  prayer,  and  still  more 
in  reading  the  Bible.  Every  word  seemed  to  come  home 
with  power.  Of  late  I  have  none  of  those  rapturous  feel- 
ings, which  used  to  be  so  transporting ;  but  I  enjoy  a 
more  calm  and  equable  degree  of  comfort — and,  though 
slowly,  yet  surely,  find  myself  advancing. 

"  Feb.  11. — A  very  dull  day — almost  discouraged  ;  yet 
I  hope  the  experience  I  gain  of  my  utter  inability  to  think 
so  much  as  a  good  thought,  will  have  a  tendency  to  mor- 
tify pride. 

"  Fib.  15. — Felt  some  liveliness  in  morning  prayer, 
and  some  aspirations  after  greater  measures  of  holiness. 
Resolved  to  observe  this  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer. 
After  seeking  divine  assistance,  reflecting  on  the  innume- 
rable sins,  of  which  my  life  has  been  full,  and  of  the  great 
aggravations  that  enhance  my  guilt,  I  attempted,  I  hope, 
sincerely,  to  give  myself  and  all  I  possess  to  God,  in  the 
renewal  of  my  covenant  engagements. 

"  Feb.  1(3. — Very  dull  and  lifeless  in  the  morning. 
Made  a  resolution  to  restrain  my  temper,  and  the  next 
moment  broke  it.  Felt  more  lively  at  meeting.  In  the 
afternoon  and  evening  was  remarkably  favored.  I  felt 
such  an  overwhelming  sense  of  GoJ's  amazing  goodness 
and  mv  own  unworthiness,  as  I  never  had  before.  It  gave 
me  a  most  earnest  desire  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  the 
service  of  God,  in  any  way  he  should  please  to  employ  me 

"  Feb.  17. — In  the  morning  felt  strong  in  the  Lord  and 
in  the  power  of  his  might .;  thought  I  could  stand  against 
all  enemies,  but  soon  was  as  lifeless  as  ever.  When  shall 
I  learn  that  all  my  sufficiency  is  of  God  ! 


EnWAKl)  PAVSON. 


69 


"  Feb.  19. — What  a  poor,  weak,  unstable  creature  I 
am,  when  Christ  is  absent!  Read  Baxter's  Saints'  Rest ; 
but  though  it  is  very  affectingly  written,  I  was  totally  un- 
moved by  it. 

"  Feb.  22. — This  is  a  day  to  be  remembered.  I  deter- 
mined to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer,  but  was  prevent- 
ed. In  the  afternoon  received  an  invitation  to  spend  the 

evening  with  ,  ,  &.c.  ;  but  thanks  to  divine 

goodness,  was  enabled  to  decline  it.  I  tasted  much  sweet- 
ness in  the  former  part  of  the  evening  ;  but  in  the  latter 
part,  I  was  favored  with  such  displays  of  divine  goodness, 
as  almost  forced  ine  to  exclaim.  Lord,  stay  thine  hand  ! 

"  Feb.  23. — Was  again  favored  with  the  divine  pres- 
ence. I  have  some  expectation  of  a  heavy  stroke  im- 
pending.   If  it  is  so,  God's  will  be  done. 

"  Feb.  24. — A  great  falling  off  from  the  enjoyments 
and  life  of  yesterday ;  yet,  blessed  be  God,  I  am  not 
wholly  deserted.  I  was  much  .favored  in  speaking  to  the 
scholars,  and  they  seemed  rather  more  affected  than  com- 
mon. But  I  have  suffered  much  to-day  from  the  attacks 
of  spiritual  pride.  This  I  already  see  will  i)e  the  enemy, 
against  which  my  efforts  must  be  directed,  and  which 
will  cost  me  itiost  conflicts.  But  I  trust  in  an  almighty 
arm. 

"  Feb.  26. — I  drag  along  without  advancing.  O,  how 
disproportionate  are  my  endeavors  to  the  mighty  prize 
for  which  I  contend  ! 

"Feb.  28. — Resolved  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting  and 
prayer.  Did  so,  but  found  no  relief  Was  astonishingly 
dead  and  wandering.  In  reading  Mr.  Brainerd's  life,  1 
seemed  to  feel  a  most  ardent  desire  after  some  portion  of 
his  spirit ;  but  when  I  attempted  to  pray,  it  vanished.  I 
could  not  even  mourn  over  my  coldness. 

"  March  3. — In  the  evening,  partly  by  my  own  fault, 
and  partly  by  accident,  got  entangled  in  vain  company. 
Afterwards  was  in  most  exquisite  distress  of  mind.  Had 
a  clearer  view  of  my  own  sinfulness  and  vilencss  than 
ever. 

"  Marrh  4. — I  seem  rather  to  go  back  than  to  advance. 
What  a  display  of  divine  power,  to  make  a  saint  of  such 
a  wretch  as  I. 


70 


MEMOIR  OF 


"  March  6. — My  time  flies  like  a  vapor,  and  nothing  is 
done.    When  shali  I  begin  to  live  for  God ! 

"  March  7. — I  am  a  useless  being  in  the  world.  I  do 
nothing  for  God,  nothing  for  man,  nothing  for  myself  I 
find  such  a  propensity  to  seek  popular  applause,  that  I  am 
ready  to  give  up  all  thoughts  of  preaching. 

"  March  8. — I  cannot  accuse  myself  of  indulging  in 
any  known  sin,  or  neglecting  any  known  duty ;  but  1  am 
so  lifeless,  so  little  engaged  in  religious  things,  that  1  seem 
to  believe  as  though  I  believed  not. 

"  March  10. — Found  considerable  freedom  in  prayer. 
Was  too  passionate  in  a  dispute  about  a  theatre.  Had  lit- 
tle freedom  in  speaking  to  the  scholars.  Was  enabled  to 
be  diligent  in  filling  up  my  time.  Was  assisted  in  my 
studies. 

"  March  12. — I  act  as  if  eternal  things  were  a  dream. 
When  shall  I  be  wise  ? 

"  March  13. — Favored  with  great  liberty  in  prayer. 
Was  enabled  to  pray  for  others  more  than  usual. 

"  March  17. — Thanks  to  divine  goodness,  this  has  been 
a  good  day  to  me.  Was  favored  with  considerable  free- 
dom in  the  morning,  and  rejoiced  in  the  Lord,  through  the 
day.  But  in  the  evening  felt  an  unusual  degree  of  assist- 
ance, both  in  prayer  and  study.  Since  I  began  to  beg 
God's  blessing  on  mv  studies,  I  have  done  more  in 

ONE  week,  than  in  THE  WHOLE  YEAR  BEFORE.  Surely, 

it  is  good  to  draw  near  to  God  at  all  times. 

"  March  19. — Less  freedom  in  prayer  than  usual.  In 
the  evening  was  betrayed  into  folly,  if  not  into  sin.  Could 
neither  write  nor  read  with  any  profit.  What  a  miserable 
creature  am  I,  when  Jesus  withdraws  his  assistance  ! — 
Was  very  positive  in  a  trifle,  and  was  justly  punished  by 
finding  myself  in  the  wrong.  Hope  it  will  prove  a  profit- 
able lesson  to  me. 

"  March  23. — Am  much  exercised  respecting  applying 
for  license  to  preach,  and  afraid  I  am  under  the  influence 
of  improper  motives ;  but  I  trust  my  Guide  w  ill  direct  me. 

"  March  28. — Read  Pike's  Savins  Faith  ;  and  though 
at  first  I  was  somewhat  alarmed  with  fr.if  inat  I  had  it 
not ;  yet,  blessed  be  God,  my  fears  and  doubts  were  soon 


EDWARD  PAY30N. 


71 


removed.  I  was  enabled  to  appeal  to  God  for  a  witness 
of  what  he  has  done  for  me.  I  know  that  I  love  my  Sa- 
viour ;  and  though  my  love  is  infinitely  short  of  his  mer- 
its, I  trust  He  who  gave  it  me  can  and  will  increase  it.  I 
am  sinful,  but  He  died  for  sinners.  Felt  unusual  fer- 
vency and  sweetness  in  prayer,  and  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  was  encouraged  to  go  on,  striving  for  more 
holiness. 

"  March  29. — Renewed  my  covenant  with  God.  Ask- 
ed assistance  to  do  it  with  sincerity.  My  prayer  was  an- 
swered in  an  unusual  degree.  I  had  a  clearer  view  of 
my  own  vileness  and  depravity,  and  a  more  distinct  and 
satisfying  perception  of  Christ's  all-sufficiency  and  good- 
ness, by  far,  than  1  ever  enjoyed  before  ;  so  that  1  was 
ready  to  think  I  had  never  known  any  thing  of  the  mat- 
ter. Was  enabled  to  say,  Abba  Father !  in  the  true  spi- 
rit of  adoption,  and  to  exercise  strong  faith  in  Christ  and 
love  to  him. 

"  March  30. — Had  more  comfort  in  ordinances  than 
ever  before.  I  was  almost  ready  to  think  this  the  period 
of  my  conversion.  The  transport  1  felt  was  more  rational 
and  penetrating,  than  I  ever  before  experienced.  It  aro.se 
from  an  apprehension  of  the  perfect  sufficiency  of  Christ 
in  all  his  offices,  and  from  a  clear  discovery  of  God  as  my 
Father,  so  that  I  was  enabled  to  trust,  rejoice,  and  exult 
in  him. 

"  April  2. — Was  enabled  in  .some  measure  to  guard 
against  a  peevish,  impatient  di.sposition.  In  the  evening, 
unusually  lively  and  fervent  in  prayer. 

"  April  5. — Was  very  much  harassed  with  wandering 
thoughts,  this  morning.  Sought  to  Chri.st  for  deliver- 
ance, and  found  it  Have  fresh  reason  to  think  visiting 

is  detrimental.  In  the  evening  was  exceedingly  depress- 
ed with  a  sense  of  my  vileness.  I  wished  to  shrink  from 
society  and  observation.  Could  hardly  think  of  attempt- 
ing to  preach.  Threw  myself  at  the  feet  of  my  bles.'^pd 
Saviour,  and  poured  forth  my  sorrows  and  complaints  be- 
fore him.  Yet  (  .suspect  there  was  more  of  self  than  any 
other  principle  in  my  tears. 

"  April  8. — Was  much  exercised  to  day  on  the  subject 
of  election,  and  other  truths  connected  with  it. — Have 


72 


MEMOIR  OF 


been  much  in  doubt  respecting  offering  myself  for  exami- 
nation next  month.  Fear  I  am  not  under  the  influence 
of  proper  motives. 

"  April  13.— Sabbath.  Felt  the  love  of  God  sweetly 
shed  abroad  in  my  heart.  Continued  in  this  frame  all  the 
morning.  Derived  nmch  more  advantage  from  ordinan- 
ces than  usual,  especially  from  the  sacrament.  A  profit- 
able day. 

"  April  13. — Was  in  a  comfortable  frame  this  morn- 
ing. Had  some  assistance  in  speaking  to  my  scholars. 
But  alas  !  my  heart  before  noon  betrayed  me  into  sin.  I 
fell  into  a  passion  with  an  inanimate  substance  ;  and 
thought,  if  I  did  not  utter  curses.  Was  soon  aroused  to 
a  sense  of  my  folly  and  guilt. 

"  April  19. — I  know  not  why,  but  this  has  been  the 
worst  week  I  have  had  these  six  months.  Believe  I  ex- 
pected too  much  from  the  sacrament. 

"  April  20. — Had  some  sense  of  my  miserable  state, 
but  little  fervency  in  seeking  relief  Suspect  the  weather 
and  my  health  have  some  influence  on  me.  In  the  eve- 
ning had  more  fervency,  but  not  more  sensible  assistance. 
Was,  however,  resigned  to  my  Master's  will,  and  enabled 
to  trust  in  him. 

"  April  20. — Was  much  favored  in  my  approaches  to 
the  throne  of  grace  to-day. 

"  Mai/  1. — Rose  early  and  had  some  life  and  comfort. 
Have  been  so  much  engaged  in  preparing  my  sermon  for 
examination,  that  my  mind  has  been  much  taken  off"  from 
religion.    I  find  writing  sermons  is  not  praying. 

"  3Im/  4. — It  is  now  long  since  I  have  enjoyed  any  of 
those  sweet  seasons  of  communion  with  God,  which  used 
to  be  my  chief  happiness.  1  fear  I  have  neglected  the 
Scriptures  too  much.  Am  determined  to  pay  more  at- 
tention to  them. 

"  Mni/  13. — This  was  the  day  in  which  I  intended  to 
be  examined  before  the  Association,  but  it  pleased  Provi- 
dence to  prevent.  In  the  evening  reflected  on  my  late 
coldness  and  backwardness  in  religion,  and  resolved  by 
the  help  of  divine  grace  to  run  with  more  alacrity,  the 
race  set  before  me. 


EDWARD  I'AVSON. 


7-3 


May  18. — I  think  I  never  was  so  favored  in  prayer 
for  so  long  a  period  in  my  life.  At  meeting  tolerably 
lively.  In  the  intermission,  and  after  meeting,  was  en- 
abled to  spend  the  time  profitably,  so  that  I  never  was  fa- 
vored with  a  more  profitable  Sabbath. 

"  May  19. — Enjoyed  considerable  fervor  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  some  life  in  speaking  to  my  scholars.  Engaged 
in  a  dispute  at  breakfast ;  and  foolishly  became  angry. 
Retired  and  prayed  for  him  with  whom  I  was  angry,  and 
for  myself  Was  enabled,  in  a  considerable  degree,  to 
conquer  my  anger  in  this  matter. 

"  May  20. — Find  .some  remains  of  anger,  notwithstand- 
ing all  my  endeavors  to  suppress  it. 

"  May  22.— Since  I  began,  in  pursuance  of  my  design, 
to  read  tlie  Scriptures,  I  have  enjoyed  more  of  the  divine 
presence  than  before. 

"  May  23. — Was  favored  in  prayer. — Was  applied  to 
by  the  selectmen  to  deliver  an  oration  on  the  4th  of  July. 
Refused,  at  first ;  but  being  persuaded  to  consider  of  it, 
pride  and  vanity  prevailed,  and  I  foolishly  complied. — 
Mem.  Never  to  consider,  when  I  have  a  presentiment, 
at  fir.st,  what  I  ought  to  do. 

"  May  26. — Found  much  of  the  divine  presence  in  du- 
ties, this  morning.  I  spoke  with  some  freedom  to  the 
boys.  Determined  to  set  this  apart  as  a  day  of  fasting 
and  prayer,  to  humble  myself  for  that  sin  for  which  I  now 
suffer,  [complying  with  the  request  to  deliver  an  oration.] 
Was  very  dull  and  lifeless  during  the  first  part  of  the  time. 
Afterwards  was  enabled  to  trust  the  affair  wholly  in  the 
hands  of  God  without  any  care  or  anxiety  respecting  it. 
Was  favored  with  a  sense  of  pardon  and  love. 

"  Sabbath,  Juiu:  1. — Sacrament.  Enjoyed  much  of  the 
divine  presence  and  assistance  in  prayer  and  meditation. 
Have  never  had  a  more  profitable  morning.  Found  my 
Saviour  in  his  ordmancss.  Hope  1  have  found  this  a 
good  day.  Seemed  to  feel  more  property  in  Christ  and 
his  benefits,  tiian  I  had  ever  done  before.  After  meeting 
was  filled  with  the  bles.sed  consolations  of  the  Spirit.  O, 
how  refreshing  are  tho.se  foretastes  of  heaven !  How 
ravishing  the  presence  of  Jesus  !  Felt  a  full  assurance 
7 


74 


MEMOIK  Of 


of  my  interest  in  the  blessings  purchased  by  Christ.  No 
doubts  obscured  the  sunshine  of  my  mind.  God  be 
praised. 

"  June  9. — Resolved  to  spend  all  the  time  before  six  in 
religious  exercises.    Enjoyed  some  comfort  in  prayer. 

"  June  15.  Sabbath.  Never  felt  such  strong  and  lively 
faith  in  prayer,  as  this  morning.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had 
notiiing  to  do,  but  to  take  whatever  I  pleased. 

"  June  17. — Was  much  harassed  with  wandering 
thoughts  in  morning  prayer.  Was  much  assisted  in  my 
studies. 

June  28. — Felt  myself  exceedingly  vile.  Found  no  com- 
fort in  the  exercises  of  public  worship.  My  oration  is  a 
snare  to  me.  O,  what  an  astonishing,  bewitching  power 
a  tliirst  for  applause  has  over  my  mind.  I  know  it  is  of  no 
consequence  what  mankind  think  of  me,  and  yet  I  am 
continually  seeking  their  approbation. 

"  June  29.  Sabbath. — Rose  early,  and  was  favored 
with  the  presence  and  assistance  of  the  blessed  Spirit  in 
prayer.  O,  how  sweet  and  refreshing  it  is  to  pour  out 
our  souls  before  God  ! — O,  the  wonderful  and  unmerited 
goodness  of  God  in  keeping  me  from  openly  disgracing 
my  profession.  If  he  had  left  me  one  moment  to  myself, 
I  had  been  ruined.  Next  Sabbath  is  the  sacrament.  God 
grant  that  it  may  be  a  refreshing  season  to  me,  and  many 
others. 

"July  2. — Still  harassed  and  perplexed  about  my  ora- 
tion. Could  not  have  believed,  that  the  desire  of  ap- 
plause had  gained  such  power  over  me. 

"  July  4. — Was  enabled  to  ask  for  assistance  to  per- 
form the  services  of  the  day. — In  the  evening  felt  in  a 
most  sweet,  humble,  tliankful  frame.  How  shall  I  praise 
the  Lord  for  all  his  goodness. 

"  July  5. — Felt  much  of  the  same  temper  I  experienc- 
ed yesterday.  In  the  evening,  was  favored  with  much  of 
the  divine  presence  and  blessing  in  prayer.  Mem.  Ap- 
plause cannot  confer  happiness! 

"  July  6. — Sabbath.  My  infinitely  gracious  God  is 
still  present,  to  make  his  goodness  pass  before  me.  He 


BDWAUD  PAYSON. 


75 


has  been  with  me  this  morning  in  prayer,  and  enabled 
me  sweetly  to  say  "  My  Father,  My  God.  At  the  sa- 
crament, my  gracious  Saviour  favored  me  with  some  to- 
kens of  his  presence.  O,  that  I  could  find  words  to  ex- 
press half  his  goodness,  or  niy  own  vileness.  I  hope  my 
faith  received  some  increase.  But  what  I  desire  to  praise 
my  God  for,  is  his  wonderful  goodness  in  assisting  me 
against  pride. 

"  July  7. — Still  favored  with  the  smiles  of  my  blessed 
Lord.  Surely  his  loving  kindness  is  better  than  life. 
How  condescendingly  kind  !  I  hope  he  is  teaching  me 
the  value  of  worldly  applause,  and  how  incompetent  it  is 
to  afford  happiness.  I  have  had  enough  to  satisfy  me,  if 
there  were  any  satisfaction  in  it.  But  happiness  is  to  be 
found  in  God  alone. 

"July  18. — Very  little  comfort  in  prayer.  Have  fallen 
into  a  sad,  lifeless  state  the  week  past.  Hope  it  will  con- 
vince me,  more  strongly  than  ever,  of  my  weakness  and 
vileness.    Sat  up  till  2  o'clock  at  night,  talking  with 

Mr.  ,  on  religious  topics.    Found  he  had  more 

to  say  in  defence  of  Unitarianism,  than  I  could  have  sup- 
posed. 

"  July  23. — I  am  entirely  stupid.  Am  sensible  of  my 
situation  and  mourn  over  it,  in  some  measure,  but  cannot 
escape. 

"  July  24. — No  life  at  all.  O,  that  it  were  with  me, 
as  in  months  past ! — In  tlie  evening  was  favored  with  more 
of  the  divine  presence,  than  I  have  enjoyed  this  fortnight. 

"July  25. — Spent  the  day,  according  to  previous  reso- 
lution, in  fasting  and  prayer.  Was  favored  with  much  of 
the  divine  presence  and  blessing,  so  that  it  was  a  com- 
fortable and  profitable  day  to  me.  Called  to  mind  the 
events  of  my  past  life,  the  mercies  I  have  received,  and 
the  ill  returns  I  have  made  for  them.  Felt  a  deep  sen.se 
of  my  own  unworthiness,  and  the  unmerited  goodness 
of  God. 

"  July  27. — Was  alarmed  with  respect  to  my  state,  by 
reading  Edwards  on  the  Affections  ;  but  obtained  comfort 
and  assurance  by  prayer. 

"  Aug.  2. — Was  much  engaged  in  prayer,  and  thought 


76 


MEMOIR  OF 


I  was  humbled  under  a  sense  of  sin.  Was  enabled  to 
plead  with  some  earnestness  for  spiritual  blessings.  But 
afterwards,  reading  an  account  of  the  conversion  of  some 
persons,  I  was  led  to  doubt  whether  I  had  ever  known 
what  it  meant,  and  was  much  distressed. 

"  Aug.  3. — Was  again  disturbed  with  apprehensions 
that  I  knew  nothing  of  religion  ;  but  though  I  could  not 
come  to  Christ,  as  one  of  his  members,  I  threw  myself 
down  before  him,  as  a  sinner,  who  needed  his  mediation, 
and  my  doubts  vanished. 

"  Aug.  4. — Rose  with  the  impression,  that  all  I  had 
formerly  experienced,  was  a  delusion,  and  that  I  was  still 
an  enemy  to  God.  Was  enabled  to  go  to  Jesus,  and  plead 
earnestly  for  mercy,  not  for  my  own  sake,  but  for  his.  I 
seemed  determined,  if  I  must  perish,  to  perish  at  his  feet ; 
but  perhaps  I  was  deceived.  However,  my  hopes  began 
to  revive.  In  the  evening  foolishly  went  into  company 
and  had  no  time  for  prayer. 

"  Aug.  10. — Felt  extremely  vile  and  sinful,  humbled 
with  distressing  doubts  concerning  my  situation.  Have 
no  humility,  no  love  to  God,  or  holiness,  am  bound  to  the 
world,  am  wasteful  of  my  time,  and  live  a  useless  being  to 
.society.  Three  and  twenty  years  of  my  short  life  lost, 
and  worse  than  lost. 

"  Aug.  11. — Determined,  by  divine  grace,  to  be  more 
diligent  and  circumspect  in  my  conduct.  Had  company  in 
the  evening,  and  little  time  for  devotional  exercises. 

"  Azig.  16. — Seemed  to  be  something  more  alive  to  di- 
vine things,  this  morning.  Found  some  sweetness  in  pray- 
er and  reading  the  scriptures.  In  the  evening  was  much 
assisted  in  preparation  for  the  Sacrament  to-morrow. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


77 


OHAPTfJR  IV. 

Retires  to  Rinclge,  and  devotes  himself  exclusively  to  his 
preparation  for  the  ministry. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1806,  Mr.  Payson  relinquish- 
ed his  charge  of  the  Academy  in  Portland  ;  and  '  after 
settling  his  business,  went  on  board  a  packet  for  Boston,' 
in  which  he  remained  several  days,  "  tossed  about  by 
contrary  winds,  and  wounded  by  the  oaths  and  blasphe- 
mies of  the  wretches  on  board."  He  has  described  "  a 
set"  of  his  fellow  passengers  by  two  words,  indicative  of 
all  that  is  revolting  to  modesty  and  pious  feeling,  and  suit- 
ed to  "  vex  the  righteous  soul  ;"  the  bare  mention  of 
which  would  cause  others  to  join  him  in  the  exclamation 
— "  How  dreadful,  to  spend  an  eternity  among  such 
wretches  1"  On  the  fifth  day  from  his  embarcation,  the 
vessel  "  arrived  in  Boston  in  a  violent  gale  of  wind,  at- 
tended with  some  danger."  He  tarried  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, till  after  commencement,  and,  notwithstanding  the 
■  noise  and  confusion,  found  more  pleasure,  than  he  had 
expected,  in  meeting  his  classmates.'  On  his  way  from 
Cambridge  to  Rindge,  he  rode  as  far  as  Groton  ,  but, 
whether  the  stage  rested  there  over  night,  or  took  a  dif- 
ferent route,  and  his  desire  to  tread  again  the  threshold 
of  his  beloved  home  alone  urged  him  forward — so  it  was, 
that  he  left  the  stage,  and  "  walked  home  Irom  Groton  af- 
ter six"  in  tiie  evening,  and  was  at  his  journey's  end 
"  about  four  the  next  morning,"  ready  to  "  receive  the 
congratulations  of  his  friends."  His  father's  house  con- 
tinued, from  this  time,  to  be  his  hallowed  and  cho.sen  re- 
tirement, till  he  entered  on  the  active  duties  of  the  min- 
istry. 

"  Wisdom's  self 
Oft  seeks  to  sweet,  retired  soiitnde  ; 
Where,  witli  her  best  nurse,  Contemplation, 
She  plumes  Iier  fp.Ttlicrs,  and  lets  grow  her  wings. ' 


76 


Memoir  of 


This  step,  considered  in  all  its  aspects,  may  justly  be 
regarded  as  one  of  the  most  important  in  Mr.  Payson's 
life,  and  reflects  the  higliest  honor  on  his  judgment  and 
good  sense.  Four  months  previously  to  this  time,  as  has 
been  seen  in  the  preceding  pages,  he  seriously  contempla- 
ted making  application  for  license  to  preach  the  gospel. 
Whatever  were  the  cause  that  prevented  him,  a  gracious 
providence  is  visible  in  it.  Not  that  he  was  particularly 
deficient  in  sacred  learning; — on  the  contrary,  his  theo- 
logical knowledge  was  probably  equal  to  that  of  most 
'  candidates.'  Among  the  works,  which  he  is  known*  t© 
have  read  with  care,  might  be  named  Watson's  Tracts, 
Witsius,  Stackhouse,  Jonathan  Edwards,  besides  many 
works  of  devotion  and  practical  divinity.  Abstracts  of 
several  other  treatises  still  exist  in  his  hand-writing, 
which  were  made  before  he  left  Portland  ;  also,  a  collec- 
tion of "  Thoughts  on  the  composition  and  delivery  of 
sermons."  Still,  during  all  this  time,  he  was  invested  with 
a  public  trust,  of  no  light  responsibility.  His  school  must 
have  mainly  engrossed  his  time,  his  thoughts,  and  his 
cares.  To  suppose,  that  his  })rofessional  studies  were  al- 
lowed more  than  a  secondary  claim  to  his  attention,  were 
to  suppose  him  unfaithful  to  an  important  charge,  which 
he  had  voluntarily  assumed.  And  though  he  could  hard- 
ly have  been  other  than  a  distinguished  preacher,  even 
had  he  entered  on  the  sacred  othce  without  further  prep- 
aration ;  yet  he  would  not  have  been  the  minister,  he  af- 
terwards was.  This  season  of  retirement  has  an  intimate 
connection  with  his  subsequent  eminence  and  usefulness. 
To  the  occupations  of  these  days  of  seclusion  from  the 
world,  more  than  to  any  other  means,  may  be  traced  his 
gi.<Tantic  '  growth  in  the  knowledge  of  God,'  and  that  ex- 
traordinary unction,  which  attended  his  performance  of 
official  duties. 

This  period  of  his  history  is  memorable,  and  highly  in- 
structive to  the  student  of  Theology.  Having,  after  nmch 

*  His  progress  in  some  of  them  is  noted  in  his  diary,  near  the 
hiatus"  already  spoken  of,  which  probably  contained  more  noti- 
ces of  the  same  kind.  The  diary,  which  was  "  commenced  as  a 
check  upon  the  misemployment  of  time,"'  and  which  did,  at  first, 
record  the  occupations  of  every  hour,  ere  lon^  became,  almost  ex- 
clusively, a  record  of  his  religious  exercises  and  experience. 


EDWAUl)  PAiSON. 


deliberation  and  prayer,  chosen  the  ministry  of  reconcili- 
ation as  the  business  of  his  future  life,  he  gave  himself  up 
to  the  work  of  preparation  with  an  exclusiveness  and  ar- 
dor, perhaps  never  exceeded.  From  every  study  and  pur- 
suit, whatever  its  charms  and  atttractions,  which  was  not 
directly  subsidiary  to  his  grand  design,  he  resolutely  di- 
vorced himself ;  at  least,  till  he  had  acquired  the  art — an- 
alogous to  the  supposed  properties  of  the  philosopher's 
stone — "  of  turning  all  to  gold."  He  seems  to  have  con- 
centrated and  directed  all  his  powers  to  the  acquisition  of 
scriptural  knowledge,  and  the  cultivation  of  Christian  and 
ministerial  graces,  in  obedience  to  the  apostolical  precept, 
"give  thyself  wholly  to  them."  A  decision  once  formed, 
was  with  him  usually  final ;  and  in  executing  his  purpose, 
"  whatever  his  hand  tbund  to  do  he  did  with  his  might." 
These,  his  permanent  characteristics,  were  eminently 
conspicuous  at  this  period,  while  learning  to 

"  negotiate  between  God  and  man, 
As  God's  ambassador,  the  grand  concerns 
Of  judgment  and  of  mercy." 

With  the  most  exalted  views  of  the  holy  office,  to  which 
he  was  looking  forward,  and  of  the  qualifications  requisite 
to  its  competent  and  successful  execution,  he  sought  them 
with  a  proportionate  zeal,  devoting  himself  to  the  study  of 
the  sacred  pages,  if  man  ever  did,  "  with  all  the  heart, 
and  soul,  and  .strength,  and  mind." 

For  "  Systems  of  Divinity,"  as  drawn  up  by  men,  Mr. 
Payson  seems  to  have  felt  but  little  reverence,  ft  was  not 
his  habit  to  decry  them  as  useless  ;  but  he  regarded  them 
with  a  watchful  jealousy,  and  felt  it  unsafe  to  trust  to 
them,  as  his  practice  evidently  demonstrates.  He  found 
"  a  more  excellent  way"  to  the  knowledge  of  his  Master's 
will,  by  consulting  directly  "  the  law  and  the  testimony." 
Thus  to  honor  the  "  lively  oracles"  is  the  wisest  and  sa- 
fest course  for  every  man  ;  for  to  embrace  a  system,  with 
the  intention  of  retaining  or  rejecting  it,  either  wholly  or 
in  part,  as  it  shall  afterwards  be  found  to  agree,  or  not, 
with  scripture,  is  to  incur  the  hazard  of  perpetuating  er- 
ror— since  a  man's  theory  is  more  likely  to  modify  his 
views  of  the  scriptures,  than  the  scriptures  are  to  correct 
the  mistakes  of  his  theory.  This  every  one  may  have  ob- 


80 


MEMOIR  OF 


served  in  regard  to  those  whose  sentiments  differ  from  his 
own.  Before  this  time,  indeed,  Mr.  Payson  had  read  some 
of  the  most  eminent  'Jivines  of  our  own  and  other  coun- 
tries, whose  works  were  then  accessible ;  and  these, 
doubtless  had  exerted  some  influence  in  forming  his  re- 
ligious opinions;  but  he  was  obviously  wedded  to  none. 
To  none  did  he  feel  the  attachment  of  a  partisan  ;  he 
had  not  arrived  to  that  state  of  mind,  which  made  him 
feel  interested  to  defend  an  opinion,  because  any  human 
master  had  said  it.  The  polluting  and  disorganizing  ten- 
dency of  loose  opinions  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  scarcely 
less  deplorable  effects  of  dogmatism  on  the  other,  which 
could  not  have  escaped  his  observation,  not  less  than  the 
spirit  of  religion  and  his  constitutional  independence  of 
mind,  conspired  to  lead  him  to  a  just  estimate  of  the  value  of 
human  authority  in  matters  of  religious  belief,  and  to  con- 
summate his  reverence  for  the  "  sure  word  of  prophecy," 
and  his  confidence  in  Revelation,  as  an  adequate  foun- 
dation for  his  faith,  and  an  infallible  guide  in  duty. 

'•  Here  is  firm  footing — all  is  sea  besides." 

Most  men,  however  discordant  their  principles,  pro- 
fess to  have  derived  them  from  the  Scriptures ;  but 
with  Mr.  P.  this  was  something  more  than  pretence.  The 
Bible  was  with  him  the  subject  of  close,  critical,  perse- 
vermg,  and,  for  a  time,  almost  exclusive  attention,  hie 
reading  being  principally  confined  to  such  writings,  as 
would  assist  in  its  elucidation,  and  unfold  its  literal  mean- 
ing. In  this  manner  he  studied  the  whole  of  the  Inspir- 
ed Volume,  from  beginning  to  end,  so  that  there  was  not 
a  verse  on  w  hich  he  had  not  formed  an  opinion.  This  is 
not  asserted  at  random.  It  is  but  a  few  years  since,  that, 
in  conversation  with  a  candidate  for  the  ministry,  he 
earnestly  recommended  very  particular  and  daily  attention 
to  the  study  of  the  Scriptures,  and  enforced  his  counsel  by 
his  own  experience  of  the  advantages,  which  would  ac- 
crue from  the  practice.  He  observed,  that,  before  he 
commenced  preaching,  he  made  it  his  great  object  to 
know  what  the  Bible  taught  on  every  subject  and  with 
this  purpose  investigated  every  sentence  ii:  it,  so  far  as 


B I) WARP  I'AYSON. 


81 


ro  be  able  '  to  give  an  answer  to  every  man  who  should 
ask  a  reason  for  it.'* 

In  this  way  he  acquired  his  unparalleled  readiness  to 
meet  every  question,  on  every  occasion,  whether  proposed 
by  a  caviller,  or  a  conscientious  inquirer,  which  it  is  well 
known,  he  usually  did,  in  a  manner  as  satisfactory  as  it 
often  was  unexpected.  The  advantages  hence  derived 
were,  in  his  view,  beyond  all  computation.  It  secured 
for  him  the  unlimited  confidence  of  people  in  the  common 
walks  of  life,  as  "  a  man  mighty  in  the  Scriptures."  It 
gave  him  great  influence  with  Christians  of  other  denomi- 
nations. It  enabled  him  to  confound  and  silence  gain- 
say ers,  when  they  could  not  be  convinced ;  as  well  as  to 
build  up  the  elect  of  God  on  their  most  holy  faith.  It 
furnished  him,  too,  with  ten  thousand  forms  of  illustration, 
or  modes  of  conveying  to  ordinary  minds  the  less  obvious 
truths,  with  which  he  was  conversant  in  the  exercise  of 
his  ministry.  He  believed  "  all  Scripture  to  be  given  by 
inspiration  of  God,  and  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof, 
for  correction,  and  for  instruction  in  righteousness;" 
and  he  was  himself  a  most  striking  exemplification  of  its 
competency  to  render  "  the  man  of  God  perfect,  thorough- 
ly furnished  unto  every  good  work." 

Of  Mr.  Payson's  devotion  to  the  Scriptures  there  is  evi- 
dence of  a  different  nature  from  that  which  has  just  been 
given.  Among  his  papers  has  been  found  a  small  manu- 
script volume  containing  "  Notes"  on  most  of  the  books 
of  Scripture.  It  is  among  the  few  interesting  relics  of 
this  period  of  his  life.    The  manuscript  ends  with  re- 

*  It  is  not  liere  alleged  that  Dr.  Paj'son  comprehended  all  that  is 
contained  in  the  Scriptures,  much  less  that  he  arrogated  to  himself 
such  knowledge  ;  for  though  ■•  the  word  of  Christ  dwelt  richly"  in 
him,  he  doubtless  continued  to  "  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God" 
by  ei^ery  perusal  of  it.  how  often  soever  repeated,  till  the  last — and 
even  then  saw  as  through  a  glass,  darkly,  cornp.ired  with  the  vis- 
ions of  heaven.  Some  truths  cannot  be  fully  comprehended,  and 
may  have  various  relations,  which  never  will  be  known  on  earth. 
Many  things  respecting  unfulfilled  predictions,  can  be  known  by 
no  man  till  after  their  accomplishment.— But  he  had  made  every 
passage  a  distinct  object  of  attention  :  and,  if  "  hard  to  be  under- 
stood,"  he  could  state  to  the  i^iquirer  the  causes  of  the  obscurity, 
and  in  the  very  fact  find  a  powerful  motive  to  humility,  diligence, 
and  prayer  for  divine  illumination,  thus  rendering  the  darkest  texts 
'"'profitable." 


82 


MEMOIR  OF 


marks  on  1  John  V.  8.  Whether  they  were  continued 
in  another  volume  to  the  end  of  Revelation  does  not  ap- 
pear. These  notes  are  short  in  themselves,  and  much  ai)- 
breviated  in  the  form  of  expression  ;  but  bear  marks  of  a 
kind  and  extent  of  investigation  highly  creditable  to  his 
learning*  and  judgment,  as  well  as  to  his  diligence  and 
fidelity.  Discrepancies  are  accounted  for  and  reconci- 
led, figures  are  explained  ;  chronology,  philosophy,  topo- 
graphy, natural  history,  ancient  languages,  are  made  to 
contribute  to  the  elucidation  of  Scripture.  Against  pro- 
phecies which  have  received  their  completion,  are  found 
references  to  the  historical  characters  and  events,  in  which 
they  are  supposed  to  have  received  their  fulfilment.  It  is 
difficult  to  characterise  these  notes  by  any  general  term, 
except  that  they  are  exegetical,  in  distinction  from  prac- 
tical and  experimental.  Those  on  the  New  Testament 
are  professedly  collated,  in  part  ;  and  though  the  same 
should,  on  examination,  be  found  true  of  the  rest,  the 
manuscript  is  evidence  of  his  careful  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tures ;  and  for  this  purpose  it  was  introduced  to  notice. 

To  learn  more  fully  Mr.  Payson's  estimate  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, the  reader  should  peruse  in  this  connection  his  ser- 
mon, entitled  "  The  Bible  above  all  price."  In  that  dis- 
course the  preacher  is  much  at  home  ;  he  treads  on  ground 
where  he  delighted  to  linger.  He  explores  a  field,  with 
whose  riches  and  beauties  he  was  familiar.  He  clusters 
together  its  excellencies  with  a  dexterous  and  bountiful 
hand,  and  describes  its  efficacy  like  one  wlio  '  spoke  that 
which  he  knew,  and  testified  that  which  he  had  seen !' 
His  familiarity  with  the  Scriptures  was  strikingly  appa- 
rent in  his  pulpit  addresses  generally  ;  not  so  much  by 
long  quotations,  as  by  their  general  spirit,  and  the  sacred 
associations  he  was  continually  awakening.  They  bore 
prominent  traces  of  the  divine  model  he  so  faithfully 
studied;  not  in  matter  only,  but  in  the  manner  of  exhib- 
iting it, — so  plain,  that  his  hearers  could  not  but  see  it, — 
enforced  by  considerations  so  reasonable  and  moving, 

*  To  what  extent  Dr.  Payson  was  familiar  with  the  original  lan- 
guage of  the  Old  Testament,  the  writer  is  not  inforiiied.  That  it 
was  among  the  objects  of  his  attention  . at  this  time,  there  is  evi- 
dence in  his  own  hand  writing;  but  none  very  conclusive,  that  his 
acquaintance  with  Hebrew  was  minute  and  critical. 


BDWARD  PAVSON. 


83 


tliat  they  must  feel  self-condemned  for  rejecting  it.  They 
were  not  the  cold  abstractions  of  a  specuUtive  mind,  but 
the  doctrines,  which  are  according  to  Godliness,  clothed 
in  the  fervid  language,  which  alfection  dictates.  They 
were  not  truths  merely  ;  but  truths  uttered  by  one,  who 
had  felt  their  power  and  experienced  their  consolations, 
under  the  influence  of  that  Spirit,  who,  to  use  his  own 
expressive  language,  "  lives  and  speaks  in  every  line." 

But  there  is  another  part  of  his  example  more  difficult 
to  imitate  than  the  one  just  sketched.  He  prayed  with- 
out ceasing.  Aware  of  the  aberrations,  to  which  the  hu- 
man mind  is  liable,  he  most  earnestly  sought  the  guidance 
and  control  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  felt  safe,  nowhere, 
but  near  the  throne  of  grace.  He  may  be  said  to  have 
studied  tlieology  on  his  knees.  Much  of  his  time  he  spent 
literally  prostrated,  with  the  Bible  open  before  him,  plead- 
ing the  promises — "  I  will  send  the  Comforter — and  when 
he,  the  Spirit  of  truth,  is  come,  he  will  guide  >ou  into  all 
truth."  He  was  especially  jealous  of  his  own  heart,  and, 
to  conquer  its  evil  propensities,  subjected  his  body  as  well 
as  his  mind  to  the  seveiest  disci|)line.  No  man  ever  strove 
harder  to  "  mortify  the  flesh  with  the  attections  and  lusts." 
It  is  almost  incredible,  what  abstinence  and  self-denial  he 
voluntarily  underwent,  and  what  tasks  he  imposed  on 
himself,  that  he  might  "  bring  every  thought  into  captiv- 
ity to  the  obedienee  of  Christ."  He  allowed  him.self  on- 
ly a  small  part  of  the  twenty-four  hours  for  sleep*  ,  and 
his  seasons  of  fasting  were  injuriously  frequent.  So  far 
did  he  carry  his  abstinence  from  food,  that  his  family 
were  alarmed  for  his  safiety.  Often  has  his  motlier,  whom 
he  most  tenderly  loved  and  reverenced,  and  whose  wish- 
es were  law  to  him,  in  every  tiling  besides  his  religious 
principles,  and  intercourse  with  his  Maker — in  every 

*  The  following  division  and  appropriation  of  liis  time  was  en- 
tered in  his  diary,  about  five  weeks  after  liis  return  t"  liis  (alher's: 

''Oct.  i>. — Kesolved  to  d<;vote.  in  future, li(>ur.s  to  study  ; 
two,  to  devotion  ;  two,  to  relaxation  ;  two.  to  meals  and  liiuiily  devo- 
tions ;  and  six  to  sleep."  But  this  did  not  long  satisfy  him.  His  rigid 
notions  of  duty  led  him  to  subtract  two  hours,  from  the  .six  devoted 
to  sleep,  and  to  multiply  his  seasons  of  fa-sting  to  a  degree  whicli 
the  human  system  could  not  long  have  sustained.  A  weclily  fast, 
however,  was  habitual  with  hiia.  from  this  time  til!  his  last  sickness 


84 


MEMOIR  OP 


thing,  111  short,  which  did  not  bind  the  conscience — often 
has  his  motlier,  or  a  favorite  sister,  stood  at  the  door  of 
his  chamber,  with  a  little  niilii  or  some  other  refreshment 
equally  simple,  pleading  in  vain  for  admission. 

The  expediency  or  duty  of  such  severe  mortification, 
turns  on  the  question  of  its  necessity  to  the  attainment  of 
the  object,  tor  which,  in  this  instance,  it  was  practised. 
If  the  subjection  of  the  heart  and  mind,  with  all  their 
powers,  to  Christ,  could  not  otherwise  be  effected,  he  was 
unquestionably  right ;  for  no  sacrifice  or  suffering,  which 
is  requisite  to  this,  can  be  too  great.  "  If  thy  right  hand 
offend  thee,  cut  it  off;  if  thine  eye  cause  thee  to  offend, 
pluck  it  out."  It  is  moreover  true,  that  the  most  eminent 
saints  of  ancient  and  later  times  have  devoted  frequent 
seasons  to  private  fasting  and  prayer  ;  and  the  practice 
may,  therefore,  be  ranked  among  the  essential  means  of 
rapid  and  extensive  growth  in  grace.  It  were  well  for 
individuals,  it  were  well  tor  the  church,  if  the  practise 
should  revive  and  become  common.*  So  far  from 
weakening  the  charities  of  life,  or  diminishing  the  amount 
of  active,  social  duties,  it  would  greatly  enhance  them. 
We  should  witness  a  more  vigorous  and  determined  pie- 
ty, a  more  diffusive  and  efficient  benevolence. 

Still  the  religion  of  Christ  enjoins  no  needless  austeri- 
ties. It  has  at  times  called,  and  may  again  call,  for  the 
sacrifice  of  health,  and  life,  and  treasure ;  for  the  renun- 
ciation of  friends,  and  home,  and  all  its  endearments. 
But  in  ordinary  circum.stances,  '  Godliness  is  profitable 
unto  all  things — to  the  life  that  now  is,  as  well  as  that 
which  is  to  come.'  It  did  not  require  injurious  excess  of 
abstinence  and  mortification  in  one  situated  as  Mr.  Pay* 

*  There  are  some  distiniruished  laborers  in  the  vineyard  of  our 
Lord,  who  practise  the  essential  duty  here  recoininended,  not  so 
much  by  totally  abstiininff  from  food  beyond  the  accustomed  inter- 
vals, .as  by  '  denying  themselves,'  at  every  nieril,  and  using  a  spare 
and  simple  diet,  at  all  times, — a  course  well  adapted  to  preserve 
both  mind  and  bod?  in  the  best  condition  for  biblical  research,  and 
devotional  exercises.  This  modification  of  tha  duty  was  much 
practised  by  Mr.  Payson.  and  stronirly  recommended  by  him  to  the 
members  of  his  church.  He  would  have  them,  when  fastinp'  on 
their  own  private  account,  not  "  appear  unto  men  to  fast ;"  but  to 
come  to  the  table  which  was  spread  for  their  families,  with  ji 
cheerful  countenance,  ajid  partake  sparinajly  of  its  provisions. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


S5 


son  was.  He  afterwards  saw  his  error — not  in  fasting, 
but  in  fasting  so  long — and  lamented  it.  In  this  matter 
his  mother  was  the  wiser  counsellor.  What  she  feared 
came  upon  him  ;  the  unhappy  consequences  to  his  health 
were  felt,  it  is  believed,  to  his  dying  day. 

The  truth  is,  Mr.  Payson  never  did  any  thing  by 
halves.  Whatever  were  the  objects  immediately  be- 
fore him,  he  was  totus  in  illis,  wholly  engrossed  with 
them.  He  was  therefore  particularly  liable,  at  this  stage 
of  his  experience,  glowing,  as  he  did,  with  all  the  ardors 
of  a  first  love,  and  panting  for  the  honor  of  winning  souls 
to  Jesus,  to  give  an  undue  intensity  to  the  meaning  of 
those  passages  which  prescribed  his  personal  duty.  When 
he  read  the  strong  language  of  Paul — "  mortify  your 
members,  that  are  upon  the  earth  ;"  and  contemplated  his 
example — "  I  keep  under  my  body  and  bring  it  into  sub- 
jection ;"  and  desired  above  all  things  to  be  another  such 
champion  of  the  cross  ;  his  susceptible  and  ardent  mind 
might  have  imbibed  views  of  duty,  which  needed  to  be 
corrected  by  another  remark  of  the  same  apostle — "  bo- 
dily exercise  profiteth  little."  When  attended  with  the 
expectation,  however  latent,  that  it  will  purchase  immu- 
nities, or  merit  heaven,  so  far  from  '  profiting'  at  all,  it 
vitiates  the  act,  rendering  it  not  only  useless,  but  abomi- 
nable. Such  an  expectation,  however,  was  totally  abhor- 
rent to  all  Dr.  Payson's  views ;  and  its  existence  in  the 
faintest  degree  is  not  to  be  supposed  on  any  other  princi- 
ples than  those,  which  are  common  to  men,  whose  de- 
ceitful hearts  practice  innumerable  impositions,  unsus- 
pected  by  their  possessors. 

If  "  he  who  ruleth  his  spirit  is  greater  than  he  who 
taketh  a  city,"  the  rigid  discipline  and  government,  to 
which  Mr.  Payson  subjected  the  passions  of  the  mind, 
and  the  appetites  of  the  body,  afford  the  most  conclusive 
proof  of  his  real  greatness,  as  well  as  of  his  decision  and 
energy  of  character,  and  of  his  unshaken  adherence  to  his 
purposes.  Ignorance  and  prejudice,  under  a  show  of  su- 
perior discernment,  will  see  in  this  conduct  the  future 
"  pope  ;"  for  prejudice,  like  malice,  will  remain  blind  to 
one  important  fact,  which  should  never  be  lost  sight  of  in 
estimating  Mr.  Payson's  character  :  Except  in  things  ex- 
pressly enjoined  in  the  Scriptures,  he  never,  at  this  time 
8 


86 


MEMOIR  OF 


or  afterwards,  made  his  own  practice  a  law  for  others.  If 
he  "  bound  heavy  burdens  and  grievous  to  be  borne,"  he 
did  not  '  lay  them  on  other  men's  shoulders,'  but  made 
his  own  bear  their  oppressive  weight.  He  urged  self-de- 
nial, prayer,  and  fasting,  indeed,  as  he  was  obliged  by  the 
authority  under  which  he  acted  ;  but  left  the  measure  and 
degree  to  the  decision  of  each  man's  conscience.  He 
knew  more  than  others  of  the  strength  of  depravity  in  his 
own  heart,  and  supposed  he  had  need  of  severe  measures 
to  subdue  it ;  that  it  was  of  a  '  kind,'  of  which  he  could  not 
be  dispossessed,  '  but  by  prayer  and  fasting.'  He  rightly 
judged  too,  that  a  minister  of  the  meek  and  self-denying 
Jesus  needed  a  more  than  ordinary  share  of  humility  and 
self-government,  to  be  separated  farther  from  the  contam- 
inations of  the  world,  than  other  men  and  to  have  the 
habitual  state  of  his  affections  more  heavenly.  Moreover, 
he  had  an  overwhelming  sense  of  ministerial  responsi- 
bility, and  looked  forward  to  the  oflice,  not  without  hope 
indeed,  but  yet  trembling  for  the  results.  Why  then 
should  he  not  learn  to  '  endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier 
of  Jesus  Christ?'  And  yet  thousands  of  nominal  Chris- 
tians will  censure  this  severe  regimen,  as  criminal,  by 
whom  he  would  have  been  suffered  to  escape  without  an- 
imadversion, had  he  indulged  in  an  occasional  surfeit,  and 
mingled  in  parties  of  pleasure. 

But  who  can  say,  that  he  was  not  moved  by  an  influ- 
ence, which  it  would  have  been  sinful  to  resist,  at  least 
till  he  had  reached  that  limit,  beyond  which  perseverance 
was  excess  ?  That  God,  who  sees  the  end  from  the  be- 
ginning, fits  his  instruments  for  the  peculiar  service,  which 
he  is  preparing  for  them.  A  great,  and  arduous  work, 
was  appointed  for  Mr.  Payson,  as  the  event  proved.  And 
for  that  kind  of  preparation,  which  consists  in  fasting  and 
communion  with  God,  he  had  the  high  example  of  the 
Jewish  Lawgiver,  and  of  One  greater  than  Moses.  Thus 
did  Christ,  our  Examplar,  previous  to  entering  on  his  pub- 
lic ministry ;  and  also  when  from  among  his  disciples  he 
*  chose  twelve,  whom  he  named  apostles.'  Thus  did  the 
apostles,  after  Christ's  ascension,  whenever  they  were 
called  to  set  apart  a  brother  to  the  work  of  the  ministry. 

In  this,  however,  and  other  duties,  the  time,  manner, 
and  extent  of  which  are  left  undetermined  by  the  express 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


87 


statutes  of  Christ's  kingdom,  it  is  safer  to  act  according  to 
our  convictions  of  duty,  for  the  time  being,  than  to  make 
these  convictions  our  unchangeable  rule  of  conduct  for 
future  time.  It  is  a  wise  direction,  "  Be  not  rash  with 
thy  mouth,  and  let  not  thy  heart  be  hasty  to  utter  any 
thing  before  God."  In  binding  ourselves  by  vows  to  any 
course  of  conduct,  regard  should  be  had  to  our  circum- 
stances, as  social  beings,  dependant  on  one  another,  as 
well  as  on  the  Author  of  our  existence.  No  man,  per- 
haps, ever  reached  any  high  degree  of  eminence,  who  did 
not  form  purposes  and  resolutions,  and  adhere  to  them, 
when  formed,  with  some  degree  of  constancy.  There  are 
obvious  advantages  in  having  our  general  course  marked 
out  before  us — in  prosecuting  our  various  duties  by  sys- 
tem, and  not  at  random.  But  when  we  descend  to  de- 
tails, and  assign,  beforehand,  to  every  hour  of  the  day  its 
employment,  or  oblige  ourselves  to  fill  up  a  given  number 
of  hours  with  a  particular  pursuit — we  should  not  overlook 
the  limits  of  human  ability,  nor  the  thousand  changes 
which  may  take  place  in  our  circumstances,  and  in  our 
relations  with  those  beings,  among  whom  God  has  placed 
us.  In  consequence  of  such  changes,  other  duties  may 
have  a  paramount  claim  to  those  very  hours  ;  and  if  our 
resolutions  are  formed  without  an  eye  to  such  contingen- 
cies, they  may  prove  a  snare  to  us.  Disappointments  will 
be  unavoidable  ;  vexation  and  discouragement  will  ensue. 
It  is  not  to  be  presumed  that  Mr.  Payson  formed  his  pur- 
poses, without  reference  to  the  vicissitudes  of  the  human 
condition.  Still,  his  chagrin  on  failing  sometimes  to  ac- 
complish them,  affords  reason  to  think  that  he  might  have 
been  too  sanguine.  It  is  a  little  remarkable,  that  the  next 
day  after  he  had  sketched  the  plan  for  his  future  daily 
employment,  unforeseen  events  necessarily  prevented  his 
executing  it : 

"  Oct.  6. — In  great  confusion  this  morning — sister 
sick — father  going  a  journey — little  time  for  prayer.  Was 
so  mucii  hindered  in  various  ways,  that  I  did  not  fulfil  my 

twelve  liours." 

From  causes  equally  beyond  his  control,  he  often  fail- 
ed of  accomplishing  all  that  he  prescribed  to  himself 
Such  were,  nevertheless,  his  most  laborious  days.  When 
hindered  and  diverted  from  his  object,  he  would  goad 


8S 


MEMOIR  OV 


himself  onward  to  extraordinary  exertion  ;  and  when  suc- 
cessful in  executing  his  plan,  his  satisfaction  was  exquis- 
ite. 

The  influence  of  habitual  prayer  upon  his  studies,  was 
so  certain,  and  so  operative,  that  the  strength  of  his  devo- 
tion seems,  for  the  most  part,  to  have  been  the  measure 
of  his  progress.  By  his  very  near  approaches  to  the  Fa- 
ther of  lights,  his  mind  received,  as  it  were,  the  direct 
beams  of  the  Eternal  Fountain  of  illumination.  In  the 
light  of  these  beams,  the  truths  of  religion  were  distinctly 
perceived,  and  their  relations  readily  traced.  These  irra- 
diations from  the  throne  of  God,  not  only  contributed  to 
the  clearness  of  his  perceptions,  but  imparted  a  kind  of 
seraphic  energy  and  quickness  to  his  mental  operations. 
From  them  he  derived,  not  light  only,  but  heat.  Few  re- 
quests were  urged  by  him  more  constantly  and  earnestly, 
than  his  petitions  for  assistance  in  study  ;  and  not  unfre- 
quently  he  records  results  similar  to  the  following — "  Was 
much  assisted  in  my  studies,  this  evening,  so  that,  not- 
withstanding I  was  interrupted,  I  was  enabled  to  write 
twelve  pages  of  my  sermon.  It  was  the  more  precious, 
because  it  seemed  to  be  in  answer  to  prayer."  Those, 
who  would  esteem  such  an  "  evening's  work,"  as  too  in- 
significant to  be  noticed  with  special  gratitude,  should 
know,  that  he  had  now  been  only  part  of  a  month  in  his 
retirement.  Three  days  later  he  writes — "  Was  most  re- 
markably assisted  in  study,  so  that  I  wrote  three  fourths 
of  a  sermon."  And  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  entries 
of  a  different  character.    One  may  serve  as  a  specimen  . 

"  Sept.  23. — Was  quite  dull  and  lifeless  in  prayer,  and 
in  consequence  had  no  success  in  study." 

Sometimes  even  his  "  lively"  fervent  prayers  were  not 
followed  by  immediate  returns ;  but  when  the  answer  was 
granted,  it  brought  with  it  a  rich  compensation  for  the  ex- 
treme perplexity  and  distress,  which  the  delay  occasioned 
him  : 

"  March  4. — Was  entirely  discouraged  respecting  my 
studies,  and  almost  determined  to  give  up  in  despair. — 
But  see  the  goodness  of  God.  He  enabled  me  to  write  a 
whole  sermon,  besides  reading  a  great  deal ;  and  in  the 
evening  was  pleased  to  lift  up  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance upon  me.    O,  how  refreshing,  strengthening,  and 


EDWARD  PAYS  ON. 


89 


animating  are  his  smiles !  How  ravishing  the  contempla- 
tion of  his  holiness,  love,  wisdom,  power  and  goodness ! 
He  seemed  to  be  a  boundless  ocean  of  love  ;  and  the  sight 
caused  my  heart  to  expand  with  love  to  him  and  all  his 
creatures.  O,  how  trifling  do  earthly  beauties  appear, 
when  he  is  pleased  to  unveil  his  face,  and  give  a  glimpse 
of  heaven  !  His  holiness  is  the  chief  glory  of  his  nature." 

But  in  nothing  was  his  progress  more  rapid,  than  in 
self-knowledge.  Here — whether  success  or  disappoint- 
ment crowned  his  other  pursuits — he  was  continually 
extending  his  discoveries.  To  those  who  are  ignorant  of 
"  the  plague  of  their  own  heart,"  his  confessions  of  sin 
must  appear  extravagant,  and  his  description  of  his  heart, 
a  picture,  having  no  original,  save  in  an  apostate  spirit. 
He  calls  it  "  a  compound  of  every  thing  bad."  He  likens 
it  to  the  '  bottomless  pit ;  out  of  it — as  soon  as  the  door, 
with  which  the  holy  Spirit  covers  it,  is  opened  by  his  ab- 
sence— a  thick,  noisome  smoke  arises,  with  a  tribe  of 
hellish  locusts,  that  devour  the  tender  plants  of  grace,  and 
bring  on  a  darkness  which  may  be  felt.'  Now,  he  is 
'  crushed  into  the  very  dust  by  a  recollection  of  the  sins 
of  his  youth  ;' — now,  '  filled  with  distressing  feelings,  and 
loses  all  hope,  that  he  shall  ever  be  fit  to  preach  ;'  while 
these  very  feelings  he  attributes  to  a  criminal  cause,  as, 
'  disappointed  pride,  and  a  conscious  inferiority  to  oth- 
ers.' At  another  time,  he  is  '  brought  into  temptations, 
which  show  his  inward  corruptions,  against  which  he  had 
been  praying,'  or  which  he  had  not  before  suspected  in 
himself  Again,  if  he  '  attempts  to  approach  the  throne 
of  grace,  whole  floods  of  evil  imaginations  carry  him 
away  !  so  that  he  is  fain  to  have  recourse  to  unthought-of 
methods  to  get  rid  of  them.'  And,  not  to  prolong  the  enu- 
meration, he  is  oppressed  with  '  such  a  sense  of  his  insig- 
nificance and  vileness,  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  should  nev- 
er open  his  mouth  any  more,  to  boast,  complain,  or  cen- 
sure.' 

Still,  his  religion  differed  as  widely  from  that  of  the 
mere  asectic,  as  Christian  charity  differs  from  selfish- 
ness. Its  fruits  demonstrate  the  genuineness  of  the 
stock.  His  first  care  was,  indeed,  to  have  his  own  '  heart 
right  with  God  ;'  but  he  was,  at  the  same  time,  fertile  in 
good  devices,  and  prompt  to  execute  them.  To  his  moth- 


90 


MEMOIR  or 


er,  under  domestic  trials,  the  nature  of  which,  though  not 
indicated,  appears  to  have  caused  her  bitterness  of  soul, 
he  was,  eminently,  "  a  son  of  consolation."  To  other 
members  of  the  family  he  strove  to  be  useful.  The  eye, 
that  could  penetrate  the  walls  of  his  chamber,  might  have 
seen  him  conducting  a  younger  brother  to  the  throne  of 
grace,  kneeling  with  him  before  the  mercy-seat,  and  in- 
terceding with  God  for  his  salvation.  He  encountered 
a  journey  for  the  express  purpose  of  visiting  an  early 
friend,  of  whose  piety  he  had  once  some  hope,  but  who, 
he  feared,  had  now  become  indifferent  to  the  one  thing 
needful — that  he  might  know  his  state  and  encourage  him 
to  seek  that  good  part,  which  could  not  be  taken  from 
him.  And  so  much  were  his  benevolent  feelings  drawn 
forth  towards  the  inhabitants  of  his  native  town,  that  he 
spared  no  suitable  exertions  for  their  spiritual  good.  A  re- 
vival of  religion  among  them  was  the  subject  of  fervent 
prayer  ;  and  in  the  same  object  he  endeavored  to  enlist 
other  Christians.  He  procured,  through  the  agency  of  his 
mother,  the  institution  of  a  weekly  meeting  of  female  mem- 
bers of  the  church,  for  united  prayer  that  the  work  of 
God  might  be  revived.  In  short,  so  far  was  he  from  be- 
ing bound  up  in  self,  that  he  exerted  himself  for  the  good 
of  others  in  such  ways,  as  were  proper  for  one  in  a  state 
of  pupilage. 

Even  in  the  most  distressing  parts  of  his  experience, 
there  are  discoverable  those  characteristics,  which  distin- 
guish it  from  the  torturing  convictions  of  the  unrenewed 
soul.  If  he  is  in  "  a  sullen,  stupid  frame,"  it  is  not  with- 
out "  some  melting  desires  after  God."  If  he  is  well  nigh 
"  overcome  by  temptation,"  it  is  that  he  may  '  rejoice  the 
more  at  his  deliverance,  when  God  gives  him  the  victory.' 
If  he  is  '  discouraged  because  of  the  difficulties  of  the 
way,  and  the  small  progress  which  he  makes,'  just  as  '  all 
hope  seems  departing,  the  fire  burns  within  him.'  Uni- 
formly, his  war  is  with  himself,  and  not  with  his  God. 
And  if^  to  prevent  the  night  ivatches,  that  he  might  medi- 
tate in  God's  word ;  if,  to  love  the  habitation  of  his  house, 
and  the  place  where  his  honor  dwelleth ;  if,  to  account 
himself  and  all  things  else,  as  nothing  for  Christ's  sake  ; 
if,  to  know  in  whom  he  has  believed,  and  to  draw  near  to 
him  in  full  assurance  of  faith ;  if,  to  be  satisfied  as  with. 


EDWAnn  PAYSON. 


marrow  and  fatness,  while  remembering  God  and  medito' 
ting  on  him  in  the  night'Watches  ;  if,  to  prevent  the  dawn- 
ing of  the  morning  by  the  cries  of  prayer ;  if,  io  prefer 
Jerusalem  above  one's  chief  joy — are  scriptural  marks  of 
piety ;  then  is  his  placed  beyond  suspicion.  All  these, 
and  more,  will  be  recognized  in  the  extracts  from  his 
journal,  with  which  this  chapter  concludes. 

"  Sept.  29. — Had  a  most  transporting  view  of  God's 
glory  as  consisting  in  pure  holiness.  I  rejoiced  greatly, 
that  he  reigned,  and  could  exalt  his  own  glory.  Hence- 
forth, I  will  not  doubt  of  my  character ;  for  I  know,  yea, 
assuredly  know,  that  I  love  God,  my  Saviour,  and  holi- 
ness. 

"  Oct.  19.  Sabbath. — Rose  with  thoughts  of  God  on 
my  mind.  Was  exceedingly  assisted  in  secret,  and  in 
family  prayer.  Never  had  my  desires  and  affections  so 
much  drawn  out  after  God  and  holiness.  Was  filled  with 
the  gracious  influences  of  the  Spirit,  so  that  I  rejoiced 
with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  Never  did  earth 
appear  so  small,  heaven  so  desirable,  the  Saviour  so  pre- 
cious, holiness  so  lovely,  God  so  glorious,  as  now.  In 
reading  the  scriptures,  they  seemed  to  open  with  a  clear- 
ness and  force,  which  delighted  and  astonished  me.  Such 
a  sweet,  calm,  soul  satisfying  joy  I  never  felt  before,  in  so 
great  a  degree.  Nothing  on  earth  seemed  worth  a  serious 
thought,  but  to  glorify  God.  Had  much  of  the  sa:ne  tem- 
per through  the  day.  Was  more  assisted  at  meeting  tlian 
ever  before.  In  the  evening  had  a  clearer  sense  of  ihe 
evil  of  sin,  a  greater  hatred  of  it,  and  more  fixed  resolu- 
tions against  it,  than  ever.  This  has  been  by  far  the  nsost 
profitable  and  blessed  day  to  my  soul,  that  I  ever  experi- 
enced.   God  be  praised  ! 

"  Oct.  25. — Was  much  depressed  with  a  view  of  the 
numerous  enemies  which  oppose  my  journey  heavenward. 
Had  a  faint  glimpse  of  Christ,  as  able  to  carry  me  through 
in  spite  of  all.  Never  before  had  such  a  clear  idea  of  the 
passage — If  the  righteous  scarcely  are  saved.  Seemed  to 
be  plunged  in  a  bottomless  ocean  of  sin  and  corruption, 
from  which  no  efforts  of  my  own  could  free  me. 

"  Nov.  2. — Sacramental  Sabbath.  Blessed  be  God, 
who  has  caused  his  loving  kindness  to  appear.  Enjoyed 


92 


MKMOIIl  Of 


much  assistance  in  family  and  secret  prayer.  Was  en- 
abled to  drag  my  sins  to  Christ,  beseeching  him  to  slay 
them  for  me.  Afterwards,  enjoyed  great  sweetness  in 
meditation.  Was  preserved,  in  some  measure,  from  wan- 
dering thoughts,  at  meeting.  Had  a  profitable,  though 
not  a  very  happy  time  at  communion.  After  meeting, 
was  favored  with  considerable  liberty  in  family  and  secret 
devotions. 

"  Nov.  10 — Had  petitioned,  last  night,  that  I  might  awake 
at  a  given  hour  ;  my  petition  was  granted,*  and  I  was  as- 
sisted in  prayer.  Felt  my  dependance  on  God  for  strength. 
Was  surprisingly  favored  all  day.  Was  in  a  sweet,  hum- 
ble frame.  1  admired  and  loved  the  work,  which  Christ 
had  wrought  in  my  heart  by  his  Spirit,  just  as  I  should 
have  admired  it  in  any  other.  My  faith  seemed  to  be  un- 
usually strong,  able  to  grapple  with  any  thing.  I  felt  all 
day,  that  I  depended  entirely  on  Christ  for  the  continu- 
ance of  my  strength. 

"  Nov.  18. — After  retiring  to  rest,  last  night,  was  fa- 
vored with  an  extraordinary  display  of  divine  grace.  I 
rejoiced  that  the  Lord  reigned,  that  Jesus  was  exalted  far 
above  principalities  and  powers.  I  was  permitted  to  ap- 
proach very  near  him  ;  and  to  plead  with  much  confi- 
dence and  earnestness  for  myself  and  others.  Waked 
several  times  in  the  night,  in  the  same  frame.  In  the 
morning,  was  favored  with  still  clearer  views,  and  more 
near  access  to  my  Saviour,  and  rejoiced  with  joy  unspeak- 
able and  full  of  glory.  Could  not  find  words  to  utter  my 
praises  for  such  goodness.  Had,  too,  a  most  humiliating 
view  of  my  own  vile  and  odious  nature. 

*  Referring  to  an  alternative,  which  might  affect  his  temporal 
comfort  merely,  and  not  hia  usefulness,  Mr.  Payson  somewhere  says 
— "  I  would  not  degrade  prayer  so  much,  as  to  make  it  the  subject 
of  a  petition."  Those  who  think  he  here  forgets  his  own  maxim, 
should  know,  that  the  loss  of  his  morning  hours  was  followed  by  a 
day  of  comparative  uselessness  and  misery.  It  is,  however,  our 
shame,  that  the  standard  of  personal  piety  should  now  render  nec- 
essary an  apology  for  such  childlike  simplicity  in  tlie  devotions  of  a 
man  of  his  acknowledged  magnanimity.  In  nothing  does  be  ap- 
pear more  wortliy  of  imitation,  tiian  in  liis  constant  recognition  of 
a  superintending  Providence,  and  in,  literally,  acknowledging  God 
in  all  his  ways. 


EDWARD  PAT  SON. 


03 


"  Nov.  19. — My  gracious  God  is  still  loading  me  with 
his  unmerited  goodness.  His  mercies  follow  each  other, 
as  wave  follows  wave,  and  the  last  seems  ever  the  great- 
est. This  morning  I  seem  to  enjoy  the  happiness  of  hea- 
ven. 

"  Nov.  21. — Resolved  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting  and 
prayer  for  greater  measures  of  grace,  and  assistance  to 
render  me  more  humble  and  concerned  for  God's  glory ; 
for  more  love  to  God  and  his  people,  and  for  ministerial 
qualifications.  After  seeking  the  divine  presence,  for 
which  I  was  enabled  to  plead  with  great  earnestness,  and 
a  feeling  sense  that  I  could  do  nothing  without  it,  I  en- 
deavored to  recollect,  and  confess  my  sins.  I  saw  myself 
exceedingly  vile,  seemed  the  chief  of  .sinners,  to  be  worse 
than  the  evil  spirits,  and  thought  that  the  lowest  place  in 
hell  was  my  due.  *  *  *  *  I  felt  the  most  ardent  desire 
for  God's  glory,  and  was  willing  to  be  a  stepping-stone,  or 
any  thing,  however  mean,  to  promote  it.  "To  be  a  fellow- 
laborer  with  Christ,  in  the  glorious  work  of  bringing  souls 
to  him,  seemed  to  be  the  most  delightful  and  honorable 
of  all  offices ;  and  in  this  service  I  felt  willing  to  spend 
and  be  spent ;  to  suffer  pain,  contempt,  and  death  itself. 
Felt  a  most  intense  love  for  Christ's  people,  and  was  wil- 
ling to  be  below  them  all. 

"  Nov.  26. — As  soon  as  I  awoke,  felt  my  soul  go  forth 
in  longing  after  more  holiness,  and  promised  myself  much 
comfort  in  prayer.  But  my  Lord  withdrew  himself,  and 
I  could  do  nothing.  Felt  convinced  that  it  was  a  dispen- 
sation of  love  for  my  good. 

"  Nov.  29. — Never  was  enabled  to  plead  with  such 
earnestness  and  submission  before.  My  mouth  was  fill- 
ed with  arguments,  and  I  seemed  to  have  both  my  Sa- 
viour and  the  blessed  Spirit  go  with  me,  and  plead  for  me 
at  the  throne  of  grace.  Was  favored  with  a  clear  view 
of  my  Saviour's  beauty  and  holiness,  and  of  the  scheme 
of  salvation  by  him.  What  a  glorious  design,  and  how 
worthy  of  its  author. 

"Dec.  1. — Favored  with  an  uncommon  spirit  of  pray- 
er. Saw  that,  as  a  member  of  Christ,  I  might  pray  with 
as  much  certainty  of  being  heard,  as  Christ  himself.  Was 
enabled  to  plead  his  merits,  sufferings,  death,  God's  gra- 


94 


ftlEMOIK  OF 


cious  promises,  what  he  has  already  done  for  me,  the  op- 
erations of  his  own  Spirit,  and  his  own  conduct  in  hearing 
others — as  reasons  why  he  should  hear  me.  *  *  *  Was 
graciously  assisted  in  pleading,  till  I  received  an  answer 
of  peace.  Was  most  sweetly  melted  with  a  view  of  the 
love  of  the  blessed  Trinity,  displayed  in  the  work  of  re- 
demption, and  the  vile,  ungrateful  returns  I  had  made. 

"  Dec.  5. — Felt  a  free  persuasion,  that  my  present 
dark,  comfortless  state  is  only  designed  for  good,  to  teach 
me  humility,  dependance,  and  weanedness  from  the 
world  ;  and  if  it  has  this  effect,  I  welcome  it  with  joy. 

Dec.  6. — All  my  proud  and  selfish  feelings  seemed  to 
be  annihilated.  I  saw  and  rejoiced,  that  Jesus  had  no 
need  of  me,  and  that  he  would  be  praised  by  others,  if 
not  by  me,  to  all  eternity  ;  and,  provided  he  could  be 
glorified,  I  cared  not  how,  or  by  whom.  How  sweet,  to 
have  pride  and  self  subdued  ! 

"  Dec.  9. — Determined  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting, 
and  prayer  for  myself  and  the  advancement  of  religion  in 
this  place.  Had  great  and  special  assistance,  last  eve- 
ning, and  no.v,  in  pleading  for  the  outpouring  of  the 
Spirit  here,  and  for  help  in  the  duties  before  me.  After 
thinking  over  my  manifold  transgressions,  my  sins  against 
light  and  love,  and  confessing  them, — I  attempted  to 
plead  my  Saviour's  death  and  righteousness  for  pardon 
and  reconciliation.  I  could  not  obtain  it,  but  was  for 
three  hours  in  great  perplexity  and  distress,  and  was 
more  than  once  on  the  point  of  giving  up  in  despair. 
However,  I  was  enabled  to  continue  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures and  praying  till  afternoon,  when  the  cloud  dispers- 
ed, and  my  Saviour  shone  out  brighter  than  ever  before. 
How  did  my  soul  rejoice,  and  plead  for  sanctifying  grace ! 
Was  exhausted  and  worn  out,  but  continued  praying,  or 
trying  to  pray,  till  night. 

Dec.  16. — Was  enabled  to  realize,  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life,  what  Christ  suffered,  and  for  what  a  wretch  he 
suffered.  Was  so  overwhelmed  with  the  view,  that  I 
could  not,  for  some  time,  shed  a  tear.  O,  how  hateful  did 
sin  appear  ! 

Dec.  17. — Was  much  assisted  in  writing  on  Christ's 
passiou. 


EDWARD  PATSON. 


95 


Jan.  4,  1807. — Was  favored  with  a  spirit  of  prayer, 
beyond  all  my  former  experience.  I  was  in  great  agony, 
and  wrestled  both  for  myself  and  others,  with  great 
power.  God  seemed  to  bow  the  heavens  and  come  down, 
and  open  all  his  treasures,  bidding  me  take  what  I  would. 

Jan.  6. — Was  not  favored  with  that  sweet  sense  of 
pardon,  which  I  usually  find  on  occasions  of  fasting  ;  but 
I  had  a  quiet,  peaceful,  resigned  frame,  and  felt  none  of 
those  repining  thoughts,  which  the  absence  of  sensible 
comforts  is  apt  to  excite. 

"  Jan.  20. — Was  amazingly  assisted  in  prayer  for  my- 
self, parents,  friends,  and  a  revival  of  religion. 

"  Jan.  21. — Was  favored  with  the  clearest  views  of  the 
glory  of  heaven,  as  consisting  in  holiness,  that  I  ever  had. 

"  Jan.  29. — Never  felt  such  longings  after  God,  or 
such  a  desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ.  My  soul  thirst- 
ed for  more  full  communion  with  my  God  and  Saviour. 
I  do  not  now  feel  satisfied,  as  I  used  to,  with  the  mani- 
festations of  the  divine  presence,  but  still  feel  hungry  and 
craving. 

"  Feh.  2. — Was  amazingly  given  up  to  wandering 
imaginations.  If  I  attempted  to  pray,  in  a  moment,  my 
thoughts  were  in  the  ends  of  the  earth,  If  I  attempted 
to  read  the  Bible,  every  verse  almost  afforded  ground  of 
doubt  and  cavilling.  This  fully  convinced  me  that  Satan 
is  able  to  make  me  doubt  even  the  existence  of  God. 

"  Feh.  18. — Was  enabled  to  lie  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  to 
wash  them  with  the  tears  of  contrition.  No  pleasure  I 
have  ever  found  in  religion,  superior  to  this. 

"  Feh.  20. — Resolved  to  spend  the  day  in  fasting,  and 
had  considerable  assistance.  Had  clearer  views  of  the 
majesty,  purity,  and  holiness  of  God,  than  usual,  and  this 
made  me  abhor  myself,  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes. 

"  Feh.  28. — Was  favored  with  great  enlargement  in 
prayer.  Seemed  to  be  carried  out  of  myself  into  the  pres- 
ence of  God. 

"  March  2. — Seem  to  be  declining  ;  am  less  grateful, 
less  fervent,  than  I  was,  and  have  less  tenderness  of  spirit. 
Yet  I  am  less  apt  to  think  much  of  myself,  than  I  was,  and 


96 


MEMOIR  OF 


hope  I  am  growing  in  humility.  This  seems  the  most 
lovely  grace,  and  most  becoming  sinners. 

"  March  7. — Were  it  not  for  the  promised  help  of  my 
Saviour,  I  would  think  no  more  of  preaching,  but  rather 
labor  for  daily  bread. 

"  March  12. — Never  appeared  so  exceedingly  vile  and 
loathsome  to  myself,  as  I  did  this  day.  It  seemed  as  if  I 
could  not  endure  to  be  near  myself  No  words  could  ex- 
press any  thing  like  the  sense  I  had  of  my  unworthiness. 
It  seemed  as  if  I  could  not,  for  shame,  ask  God  to  save 
me.  I  felt  like  sinking  into  the  dust,  in  the  idea  that  his 
pure  eye  was  fixed  upon  me,  and  that  saints  and  angels 
saw  how  vile  I  was. 

"  March  15. — Sabbath.  Rose  very  early,  and  was  fa- 
vored with  sweet  fervency  and  communion  with  God  in 
prayer.  Went  to  bed,  and  lay  till  morning.  Enjoyed 
great  liberty  in  prajer,  several  times  before  meeting. 

"  March  17. — Was  favored  with  a  peculiar  experience, 
this  morning.  I  thought  I  knew  that  I  could  never  heal 
myself  before  ;  but  I  was  made  to  know  it  in  a  different 
manner  now.  I  saw,  with  most  convincing  clearness,  that 
neither  I,  nor  all  created  beings,  could  do  the  least  thing 
towards  delivering  me  from  my  sinful  nature.  I  saw  that 
I  depended  entirely  on  the  free  mercy  of  God  ;  and  that 
there  was  no  reason  but  his  own  good  pleasure,  why  he 
should  ever  afford  me  that  assistance.  Felt,  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  what  the  apostle  meant  by  "  groanings 
which  cannot  be  uttered  ;"  and  my  desires  after  holiness 
were  so  strong,  that  I  was  in  bodily  pain,  and  my  soul 
seemed  as  if  it  would  burst  the  bands,  which  confined  it 
to  the  body." 

"  March  19." — [At  the  close  of  a  day  of  fasting  and 
prayer.] — "  I  find,  that,  even  when  the  spirit  is  willing, 
the  flesh  is  weak.  No  days  are  so  fatiguing,  as  those 
which  are  spent  in  fervent  and  continual  exercises  of  re- 
ligion.   It  loill  not  be  so  in  heaven. 

"  March  26. — Spent  the  day  in  fasting  and  prayer. 
Was  favored  with  near  access  to  my  Heavenly  Father,  and 
a  realizing  sense  of  his  perfections.  O,  how  sweetly  was 
I  enabled  to  praise  and  admire  his  love  and  goodness  in 
his  works ! 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


97 


"  jPcft  .20-^Resolved  to  spend  the  day  in  fasting,  and  had 
considerable  assistance.  Had  clearer  views  of  the  majes- 
ty, puritv,  and  holiness  of  God,  than  usual,  and  this  made 
me  abhor  myselt',  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes. 

"  March  31. — Spent  this  day  fasting,  but  not  in  prayer  ; 
for  I  could  not  put  up  a  single  petition.  Was  entirely  de- 
serted, and  was  ready  to  say,  surely  it  is  in  vain  to  seek 
after  God.  I  could  not  see  that  I  had  advanced  one  step 
in  holiness,  and  was  ready  to  think  I  never  should ;  yet 
could  think  of  nothing  else  worth  pursuing,  or  living  tor. 
Doubted  whether  it  were  possible  that  I  should  know  any 
thing  of  true  religion,  and  yet  be  so  entirely  barren. 

"  April  7. — In  fasting  and  prayer  was  favored  with 
much  of  a  spirit  of  supplication.  J  now  seem  to  be  lifted 
above  tliose  discouraging,  desponding  doubts,  which  have 
for  some  time  clogged  my  soul.  No  good  comes  of 
DOLBTi.vc;,  on  of  brooding  over  ovr  sins. 

"  April  14. — Spent  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer. 
Was  wholly  deserted,  except  that  I  saw  more  of  my  natur- 
al depravity,  and  the  consequent  pollution  of  all  my  du- 
ties, tlian  ever  before.  Saw  more  too  of  the  glory  and 
greatness  of  the  work  of  redemption,  than  I  had  previ- 
ously. 

"  April  22. — Spent  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer.  At 
first  was  stupid  ;  but  soon  God  was  pleased  to  lift  up  the 
light  of  his  countenance  upon  me,  and  visit  me  with  his 
free  Spirit.  O,  how  hifinitely  glorious  and  lovely  did  God 
in  Christ  appear  !  I  .«avv,  I  felt,  that  God  was  mine,  and 
I  his,  and  was  unspeakably  happy.  Now,  if  ever,  1  en- 
joyed communion  with  God.  He  shone  sweetly  upon  me, 
and  I  reflected  back  his  beams  in  fervent,  admiring,  ador- 
ing love.  Had  a  most  ravishing  view  of  the  glories  of 
heaven,  of  the  ineffable  delight,  with  which  the  Lord  Je- 
sus beholds  the  happiness  which  he  has  purchased  with 
his  own  blood." 


0 


98 


MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  V. 

His  state  of  mind  in  the  immediate  prospect  of  the  minis- 
try. 

The  time  now  drew  near,  when  Mr.  Payson  was  to  re- 
ceive license,  agreeably  to  Congregational  usage,  to 
preach  the  gospel.  His  spirituality  appears  to  have  in- 
creased, as  that  interesting  era  of  his  life  approached. 
Most  sensibly  did  he  feel,  that  he  '  was  no  longer  his  own, 
but  bought  with  a  price,'  and  '  called  by  grace  to  serve 
God  in  the  gospel  of  his  Son.'  '  The  world  was  cruci- 
fied to  him,  and  he  to  the  world.'  His  piety  was  distin- 
guished by  more  frequent  acts  of  self-dedication  to  God 
— not  by  short  ejaculations,  and  a  general  surrender  mere- 
ly, but  with  great  deliberation,  attended  by  a  minute  sur- 
vey of  the  relations  of  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  and  of 
the  obligations  recognized  and  assumed  by  such  a  conse- 
cration. Happily,  one  specimen  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  gave  himself  up,  is  preserved  ;  and  though  it  describes 
the  secret  dealings  of  the  soul  with  its  God,  it  is  hoped 
that  it  will  not  be  desecrated  by  being  brought  out  to  the 
light.  If,  however,  the  reader  never  felt  the  awe  which  is 
created  by  a  consciousness  of  the  divine  presence  ;  if  he 
never  experienced  the  emotions  of  an  ancient  pilgrim, 
when,  preparing  for  a  similar  transaction,  he  exclaimed 
— "  How  dreadful  is  this  place  !" — he  is  urgently  request- 
ed to  pause.  If  he  is  conscious  of  any  other  feelings, 
than  those  of  profound  solemnity,  let  him  leave  this  chap- 
ter unread.  In  it  he  will  find  nothing,  with  which  a  mind, 
given  to  levity,  or  vanity,  or  pride,  can  possibly  sympa- 
thize. If  he  ventures  to  proceed,  he  will  be  met,  at  the  thres- 
hold— if  not  by  '  a  drawn  sword  in  the  hand  of  the  Captain 
of  the  Lord's  host' — by  that  which  is  scarcely  less  appal- 
ling to  an  earthly  mind  ;  and  which  will  render  almost 
equally  appropriate  the  order  addressed  to  Israel's  leader  ; 
"  Loose  thy  shoe  from  off  thy  foot  ;  for  the  place  whereon 
thou  standest  is  holy." 


EDWARD  PAYSOiN. 


99 


"  May  1,  1807.  Having  set  apart  this  day  for  fasting 
and  prayer,  preparatory  to  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  I  rose  early  and  sought  the  divine  presence  and 
blessing,  in  which  I  was  favored  with  fervency  and  free- 
dom. My  petition  was,  that  I  might  be  enabled  to  see 
my  own  character,  contrasted  with  the  purity  of  God,  and 
his  holy,  just,  and  good  law  ;  that  I  might  be  assisted  in 
renewing  covenant  with  God,  and  in  giving  myself  up  to 
him,  and  that  I  might  be  favored  with  ministerial  qualifi- 
cations.   After  this,  I  drew  up  the  following 

Confession  and  Form  of  Covenant. 

O  Thou  High  and  Holy  One,  that  inhabitest  eternity, 
whose  name  alone  is  Jehovah ;  who  art  the  one,  great,  eter- 
nal, ever-blessed  God,  before  whom  angels  bow,  and  devils 
tremble,  and  in  whose  sight  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
are  less  than  nothing  and  vanity  !  Wilt  thou  graciously 
condescend,  in  thy  sovereign  and  infinite  goodness,  to 
look  down  from  thy  throne  of  glory  on  me,  the  most  un- 
worthy of  thy  creatures,  a  poor,  weak,  sinful,  vile,  and 
polluted  wretch,  to  behold  me  with  mercy  and  compassion, 
and  permit  me,  lying  prostrate  iu  the  dust  before  thee,  to 
address  thee  as  my  God,  my  Father,  my  Creator,  my 
Benefactor,  my  Friend  and  Redeemer. 

O  Lord,  I  would  come  with  a  heart  broken  and  contrite 
for  sin,  acknowledging  myself  unworthy  of  the  least  of  all 
thy  mercies,  and  deserving  nothing  at  thine  hand  but  ev- 
erlasting banishment  from  thee  and  happiness.  Encour- 
aged by  thine  own  gracious  promises,  I  would  come,  and  . 
with  humble  confidence,  take  hold  on  the  hope  set  before 
me,  even  thine  everlasting  covenant,  which  is  ordered  in 
all  things  and  sure.  But,  O  God,  what  am  I,  that  I  should 
be  called  thy  son,  that  I  should  call  thee  my  Father,  or 
that  thou  shouldst  enter  into  covenant  with  me  ?  I  blush, 
and  am  ashamed  even  to  lift  up  my  face  unto  thee,  O  my 
Father  ;  for  I  have  sinned  against  thee,  and  am  exceed- 
ing vile  ;  vile  beyond  what  language  can  describe,  or 
thought  conceive.  My  iniquities  are  gone  over  my  head, 
they  are  increased  even  to  the  heavens  ;  they  are  infinite 
in  number,  in  degree  and  aggravation,  and  can  be  equal- 
led only  by  thy  mercies,  which  have  been  new  every 


100 


MEMOlli  OV 


moment.  Thou,  O  God,  hast  given  me  life,  and  dost  still 
preserve  me  in  existence.  Thou  hast  given  nie  faculties, 
which  render  me  capable  of  knowing,  serving,  loving, 
worshipping,  and  enjoying  thee.  Tliou  hast  placed  me 
in  this  Christian  land,  and  given  me  the  knowledge  of 
thee,  myself,  and  my  duty,  while  thousands  of  my  fellow 
creatures  are  left  in  darkness.  Thou  hast  placed  me  in 
that  situation  in  life,  which  is  most  favorable  to  virtue, 
contentment,  and  happiness  ;  and  hast  given  me  parents 
tender  and  affectionate,  who  early  devoted  me  to  thee, 
and  taught  me  to  lisp  thy  name,  and  to  know  thy  precepts. 
Through  their  means  thou  hast  given  me  opportunities  of 
improving  those  faculties  I  have  received  from  thee,  and 
thus  rendering  myself  more  fit  to  serve  thee.  But  above 
all,  O  my  God,  thou  hast  given  me  an  interest  in  thy  Son, 
and  in  all  the  blessings  he  has  purchased.  Thou  hast 
given  me  the  Spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  I  am  enabled  to 
cry,  Abba,  Father.  Thou  hast  given  me  thy  precious 
grace  in  this  world,  as  an  earnest  of  glory  in  the  next. 
Thou  hast  also  loaded  me  with  daily  and  hourly  mercies, 
more  than  I  can  number.  Thou  hast  kept  me  with  more 
than  parental  care.  Thou  hast  preserved  me  in  sickness, 
protected  me  from  dangers,  shielded  me  while  awake, 
watched  over  mc  in  sleep,  supported  me  in  trials,  strength- 
ened me  in  weakness,  succored  me  in  temptations, 
comforted  me  in  afflictions,  and  defended  me  against 
mighty  and  numberless  enemies.  Thou  hast  overwhelmed 
me  with  thy  mercies,  my  cup  runneth  over.  Thy  good- 
ness and  thy  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my 
life. 

Yet  against  all  this  goodness  I  have  rebelled  ;  have  rc- 
warded  thee  evil  for  good  ;  thy  mercies  have  only  aggra- 
vated my  guilt.  O,  my  God,  what  have  I  done  I  what 
madness,  what  obstinaoy,  what  ingratitude  has  possessed 
me  !  My  sins  have  run  parallel  witii  thy  mercies.  I  have 
struck  and  wounded  the  hand  that  made  me,  fed  me,  pre- 
served me.  I  have  wasted  in  sin  and  Iblly  the  life  thou 
gavest  me.  I  have  perverted  tliose  faculties  I  received 
from  thy  goodness  in  dishonoring  thee,  and  in  disobeying 
thy  commands.  I  was  shapen  in  sin,  and  brought  fortli 
in  iniquity.  My  understanding  is  darkened  and  alienated 
from  the  truth  ;  niy  will  is  stubborn  and  perverse  ;  uiy 


finWAKD  fAYSON. 


101 


affections  are  corrupt  and  depraved,  and  every  imagina- 
tion of  the  thoughts  of  my  heart  has  been  evil,  only  and 
continually  evil.  My  carnal  mind  has  been  enmity  against 
thee,  and  has  not  been  in  subjection  to  thy  righteous  and 
holy  law.  From  this  corrupt  and  bitter  fountain  have 
proceeded  innumerable  bitter, polluting  streams.  Though 
1  was  early  taught  thy  will,  I  neglected  to  perform  it.  I 
have  broken  all  thy  commands,  times  without  number. 
My  words,  thoughts,  and  actions  have  been  sinful.  I  have 
gone  astray  from  my  youth  up. 

And  even  after  thou  didst  take  pity  upon  me,  when  I 
was  cast  out  polluted,  to  perish  in  my  blood  ;  after  thou 
didst  receive  me,  a  poor,  wretched  prodigal,  and  didst 
cause  thy  wondrous  goodness  and  mercy  to  pass  before 
me,  I  have  still  continued  to  weary  thee  with  my  sins, 
and  cause  thee  to  serve  with  mine  iniquities.  I  have 
broken  that  solemn  covenant,  by  which  1  bound  myself  to 
be  thine.  I  have  indulged  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief  in 
departing  from  the  living  God  ;  and  have  in  all  things 
dealt  very  treacherously.  How  often  have  I  mocked  thee 
with  solemn  words  on  a  thoughtless  tongue.  How  have 
I  neglected  thy  word,  profaned  thine  ordinances,  broken 
thy  law,  and  resisted  thy  grace.  How  little  of  a  filial 
temper  have  I  felt  to  thee,  my  Father.  How  little  grati- 
tude to  thee,  blessed  Saviour.  How  often  have  I  grieved 
thee,  O  Holy  Spirit,  by  whom  I  am  sealed  to  the  day  of 
redemption.  When  thou  liftest  upon  me  the  light  of  thy 
countenance,  I  grow  proud,  carnal,  and  secure  ;  and 
when  thou  leavest  me  in  darkness,  when  my  own  foolish- 
ness perverteth  my  way,  then  my  proud  heart  fretteth 
against  thee,  the  Lord.  All  my  duties  are  polluted  with 
innumerable  sins,  and  are  as  a  leprous  garment  before 
thee.  And  after  all  thou  hast  done  for  me,  I  am  still  en- 
compassed about  with  innumerable  evils.  Pride,  unbelief, 
selfishness,  lust,  anger,  hatred,  malice,  revenge,  bitterness, 
slothfulness,  vanity,  love  of  the  world,  ignorance,  formali- 
ty, hypocrisy,  and — with  all  these — self-conceit,  are  still 
the  inhabitants,  if  not  the  lords  of  my  heart.  And,  as 
thou,  O  Lord  knowest,  these  are  not  the  ten  thousandth 
part  of  my  sins  and  iniquities,  so  that  I  am  the  chief  of 
sinners,  and  the  least  of  all  saints.  ******* 

O  wretched  man,  that  I  am  !    Who  shall  deliver  niQ 


102 


MfEMOXR  OF 


from  this  body  of  death  ?  Vain,  O  Lord,  thou  kno-vrest,  are 
niy  endeavorSj  and  vain  is  the  lielp  of  man.  I  have  ruin- 
ed myself,  and  in  thee  alone,  and  in  thy  mercy,  is  my  hope. 

To  this  mercy,  against  which  I  have  so  often  sinned^ 
would  I  flee  for  refuge  ;  and  laying  my  hand  on  my  mouth, 
and  my  mouth  in  the  dust,  cry.  Unclean  !  unclean  ! 
True,  Lord,  I  have  sinned  ;  but  with  thee  there  is  mercy,, 
with  thee  there  is  plenteous  redemption.  Thou,  thou, 
art  he,  who  blottest  out  our  iniquities  tor  thirie  own  sake, 
and  wilt  not  remember  our  sins  against  us.  The  blood 
of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin  ;  and  to  this  would  I  flee 
for  refuge.  In  him  do  I  put  my  trust  ;  O,  let  me  not  be 
ashamed.  Let  me  plead  before  thee  the  merits  of  thy 
Son,  and  put  thee  in  mind  of  thy  gracious  promises,  that 
I  may  be  justified.  In  his  name,  a,nd  as  an  unworthy 
member  of  liis  mystical  body,  would  I  come,  and  renew 
before  thee  that  covenant,  which  I  have  broken,  and  bind 
myself  to  be  thine  forever.  And  do  thou,  for  his  sake, 
O  God,  assist  me,  for  in  thee  is  my  strength. 

Relying  on  this  strength  for  support,  and  confessing 
myself  guilty  of  all  these  and  innumerable  other  offences  ; 
and  that  I  deserve,  in  justice,  nothing  but  the  lowest  hell, 
and  renouncing  the  destructive  ways  of  sin,^ — I  do,  with 
my  whole  heart  and  soul,  in  a  most  serious,  solemn,  and 
deliberate  manner,  choose  and  take  the  Lord  Jehovah  to 
be  my  God  and  Father,  cheerfully  and  joyfully  renewing 
all  my  past  engagements  ;  and  in  liumble  dependance  on 
his  grace,  I  engage  to  fear  him,  and  cleave  to  him  in 
love.  And  I  do,  most  freely,  give  up  myself,  my  interests, 
for  time  and  for  eternity,  my  soul  and  body,  my  friends 
and  possession.-?,  and  all  that  I  have,  to- his  wise,  just,  and 
sovereign  disposal.  Especially  do  I  devote  myself  to  him 
in  the  service  of  the  ministry,  beseeching  him  to  place 
me  in  that  situation,  in  which  I  shall  most  glorify  him. 
And  wilt  thou,  O  most  gracious  and  condescending  God, 
accept  this  offering  of  tliy  creature,  who  can  give  thee 
nothing,  but  what  he  has  first  received. 

With  equal  joy  and  readiness,  and  in  the  same  serious 
and  solemn  manner,  do  I  choose  and  embrace  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  to  be  my  only  Saviour.  I  take  him  in  all 
his  offices — as  my  priest,  to  make  atonement  for  all  my 
offences — as  my  prophet,  to  guide,  teach,  enlighten 
9* 


\ 

EDWAUD  PAYSON.  103 

and  instruct  me — as  my  king,  to  rule  in  and  reignt  over 
me.  1  take  hiin,  as  tiie  great  head  of  influences,,  from 
whom  alone  I  can  receive  all  needed  supplies  of  grace  and 
assistance. 

I  do  also  take  the  Holy  Spirit  of  all  grace  and  conso- 
lation, to  be  my  Sanctilier,  and  promise  not  to  grieve  him, 
or  to  slight  his  warnnigs. 

And,  O  my  God,  what  shall  I  more  say  ?  what  can  I 
ask,  since  I  am  thine,  and  thou  art  mine  ;  mine,  fur  time  ; 
mine,  for  eternity  ?  O  my  God,  I  want  nothinir,  but  ta 
be  wholly  thine.  I  would  pleae'  thy  promise  for  a  new 
heart  and  a  right  spirit.  O  write  this  covenant  on  my 
heart,  and  put  thy  fear  there,  that  I  may  not  depart  from 
thee.  May  I  be  made  an  able,  faithful,  and  successful 
minister  of  the  New  Testament.  May  the  iiie  and  con- 
cerns, which  I  have  now  devoted  to  thee,  be  employed  in 
thy  service  ;  and  may  I,  at  length,  be  broiight  to  the 
full  enjoyment  of  thee  in  glory,  through  intinite  riches  of 
redeeming  love. 

As  a  testimony  of  my  sincere  and  hearty  consent  to  this 
covenant,  of  my  hope  and  desire  to  receive  tiie  blessings 
of  it,  and  as  aswiit  witness  against  me  if  I  depart  from  it ; 
I  do  now,  before  God  and  the  holy  angels^  subscribe  with 
my  hand  unto  the  Lord.  Edw  ard  Payson. 

And  may  tliis  covenant  be  ratified  in  heaven.  And  d(y 
thou  remember,  O  my  soul,  that  the  vows  of  God  are  u^pon 
thee. 

"  Having  drawn  up  the  above  coverKint,  I  spread  it  be- 
fore  the  Lord  ;  and  after  conlbssion  of  sins,  and  seeking 
purdun  through  the  blood  of  Christ,  I  did  solemnly  ac- 
cept it  before  him,  as  my  free  act  and  deed  ;  and  embra- 
ced Christ  in  it,  as  the  only  ground  of  my  hope.  I  then- 
pleaded  for  all  covenanted  blessings,  and  was  favored  w  ith 
great  fervency  and  enlargement  in  prayer.  An  indisposi- 
tion, which  attended  me  througli  the  dav,  rendered  it  less 
profitable  than  usual  ;  yet  I  have  abundiint  reason  to  bless 
God  for  the  measure  of  assistance  I  received.  I  felt  the 
mo.st  longing,  intense,  and  insatialde  desires  after  holi- 
ness, and  to  l>e  employed  in  promoting  the  divine  glory. 
The  world  with  its  apphuise  seem«d  nothing  in  compari- 
son with  the  approbation  of  God.  Existence  seemed  worth 
possessing  only  as  it  covM  be  employed  in  praising  him," 


104 


MEMOIR  OF 


Before  the  reader  sits  in  judgment  on  the  transaction 
now  recorded,  and  especially  on  the  manner,  in  which  it 
was  conducted  ;  before  he  censures  the  vows,  by  which 
the  covenanter  bound  his  soul,  as  too  strong,  the  surren- 
der as  too  complete  and  exclusive,  or  the  terms  in  which 
it  is  done  as  extravagant, — let  him  inquire  of  his  own 
heart,  whether  he  has  duly  considered  the  claims  of  the 
great  Jehovah,  and  treated  these  claims  as  a  real  servant 
of  God,  a  true  disciple  of  Christ.  Even  under  his  "  easy 
yuke,"  the  terms  of  the  relation  are,  '  Except  ye  forsake 
all,  ye  cannot  be  my  di*ciples.'  And  if  "  no  man  can 
serve  two  masters,"  we  have  no  alternative,  but  to  give 
up  ourselves  to  God  without  reserve,  or  be  disowned  by 
him.  However  solemn  the  act,  that  can  be  neither  un- 
reasonable nor  improper,  which  our  Father  in  heaven  re- 
quires. When  we  enter  upon  an  enumeration  of  all  that 
is  comprised  in  dedicating  one's  self  to  God,  we  may  well 
be  filled  with  awe,  and  tremblingly  alive  to  the  danger  of 
failing  to  perform  our  vows  ;  but  to  withhold  the  offering, 
savors  more  of  unbelief,  of  a  selfish  and  rebellious  heart, 
than  of  a  wise  caution,  or  a  filial  temper. 

There  is  a  class  of  persons,  to  whom  the  confessions  in 
the  above  instrument  will  appear  revolting,  and  by  whom 
they  will  be  stigmatized  as  religious  affectation.  He  speaks 
of  his  sins  as  '  infinite  in  number,  degree,  and  aggrava- 
tion.' The  Christian,  whose  '  sins  have  been  set  in  order 
before  him,'  sees  no  hyperbole  in  such  language  :  and  if 
it  should  meet  the  eyes  of  others,  they  are  referred  for  an 
explanation,  so  far  as  it  can  be  appreciated  without  Chris- 
tian experience,  to  the  seventh  sermon  in  the  posthumous 
volume  of  his  discourses.  Even  '  the  natural  man'  may 
there  '  discern'  enough  to  acquit  the  author  of  inconsis- 
tency ;  and  it  is  no  more  than  an  act  of  common  justice 
to  allow  him  to  be  his  own  e.Kpositor. 

In  this  and  other  places,  he  descends  to  specifications 
of  sins  in  terms  which  may  be  thought  applicable  to  none 
but  a  monster  of  wickedness  ;  and  yet  they  are  the  judg- 
ment passed  on  himself  by  a  man,  always  and  muversally 
respected  for  the  correctness  and  purity  of  his  morals. 
His  '  pride'  never  looked  with  disdain  upon  the  meanest 
fellow  creature  ;  his  '  malice'  and  '  revenge'  never  inflict- 
ed actual  injury  ;  and  of  any  out-bieakings  of  the  baser 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


105 


and  more  degrading  passions,  he  stands  unindicted  by  all 
except  himself.  Nor  were  these  humiliating  confessions, 
this  extraordinary  self-abasement,  made  to  attract  notice 
and  give  himself  importance  in  the  eyes  of  others — one  of 
tlie  very  worst  and  most  odious  forms  in  which  pride  op- 
erates— for  to  them  no  mortal  was  ever  privy.  They  were 
not  known  to  a  fellow  creatuie,  till  since  he  dropped  the 
clods  of  mortality.  They  describe  what  he  appeared  to 
himself  to  be  in  the  immediate  presence  of  the  perfectly 
holy  and  heart-searching  God.  Still,  many  will  repeat 
the  question — if  he  alludes  to  no  crimes,  with  which  every 
man  might  not  with  equal  propriety  charge  himself, 
whence  the  justice,  or  truth  of  the  charges  ?  Here,  again 
he  shall  be  his  own  interpreter.  Let  those  who  are  op- 
pressed with  this  difficulty  carefully  read  his  sermon,  en- 
titled, sins  estimated  by  the  light  of  heaven,  and  they  will 
find  a  full  and  satisfactory  solution.  This,  and  the  ser- 
mon just  alluded  to,  will  furnish  a  key  to  the  true  import 
of  much  of  tlie  language  which  he  employs  in  describing 
the  darker  and  more  distressing  parts  of  his  experience. 

The  effects  of  his  severe  regimen  and  night  vigils  on 
his  health,  had  already  begun  to  appear  ;  and  were  some- 
what aggravated  by  a  bodily  injury  which  he  received 
about  this  time.  The  circumstances  are  said  to  have  been 
these  :  He  had  accompanied  his  father  and  another  cler- 
gyman to  an  ordination.  On  their  return,  as  he  was 
feasting  his  mind  with  such  meditations  as  the  scenery 
and  the  occasion  sugge.sted,  they  out-rode  him.  His 
horse,  being  left  principally  to  his  own  guidance,  by  sud- 
denly leaping  a  brook,  brought  his  rider  to  the  ground, 
who.se  right  .shoulder  was  dislocated  by  the  shock.  A 
partial  faintness  succeeded,  from  which  he  was  recovered 
by  bathing  his  temples  with  water  from  the  stream.  He 
was  soon  able  to  remount  without  assistance,  but  was 
Iiardly  seated  before  he  was  thrown  a  second  time,  and 
the  bone  was  restored  to  its  place  by  the  fall.  In  after 
life  it  was  often  displaced,  and  sometimes  in  circumstan- 
ces not  a  little  embarrassing  and  distressing  ;  and  for 
many  months  before  his  death,  and  even  before  he  ceased 
to  appear  in  the  pulpit,  that  arm  hung  useless  by  his  side. 
From  this  time  tlie  state  of  his  health  is  the  subject  of 
frequent  allusion,  as  may  be  seen  from  his  journal,  parti 


106 


MKMOIU  OF 


of  which  for  several  successive  days  are  subjoined,  bring- 
ing down  his  history  to  the  date  of  his  license  to  preach 
the  gospel. 

"  Maij  2. — Was  exceedingly  weak  through  the  day, 
both  in  body  and  mind,  and  was  enabled  to  do  little  or 
nothing.    Could  only  wish  and  sigh. 

"May's. — Sacrament.  Had  considerable  flow  of  af- 
fections, but  seemed  to  want  clearness  and  spirituality. 
In  the  afternoon  was  more  dead  and  trifling.  So  far  as 
I  can  judge  from  my  feelings,  have  got  little  good  by  this 
opportunity.  Felt  deeply  oppressed  with  guilt  after  meet- 
ing, but  could  not  mourn  over  my  sin,  as  I  would  fain 
have  done,  nor  could  I  obtain  any  sense  of  divine  love. 
But  after  a  short  time  my  compassionate  Saviour  was 
pleased  to  melt  my  soul  with  a  look  of  love,  and  I  felt 
sweetly  humbled  and  contrite  for  sin.  Although  I  had 
carelessly  let  down  my  watch,  yet  in  the  evening  he  was 
pleased  to  return,  and  give  me  the  sweetest  humbling 
season  I  ever  enjoyed.  I  never  felt  so  vile,  so  insignifi- 
cant, so  like  nothing,  so  emptied  of  self  And  when  I 
was  thus  empty,  he  was  pleased  to  fill  me  with  himself, 
so  that  I  was  burnt  up*  with  most  intense  love,  and  pant<- 
ings  after  holiness.  Never  before  had  I  such  faith  and 
fervency  in  prayer.  I  was  as  happy  as  nature  could  sus- 
tain, and  could  only  say — Blessed  Jesus  !  this  is  thy  work. 
See  my  happiness.  It  proceeds  from  thee !  This  is  the 
fruit  of  thy  travail  of  soul.  Renewed  my  covenant,  and 
gave  up  my  whole  soul  with  all  its  powers  to  God,  as  my 
Father,  Christ  as  my  Saviour,  and  the  Holy  spirit  as  my 
Sanctifier.  Had  another  sweet  season  in  prayer ;  but 
was  assaulted  by  spiritual  pride.  I  see  frowns  are  neces- 
sary for  me. 

"  May  4. — Was  less  favored  this  morning  than  last 

*  This  expression  may,  at  first  glance,  strike  the  reader  as  ex- 
travagant; and  yet  by  consulting  John  II.  17.  he  wil!  find  an  al- 
most exact  parallel — The  zeal  of  thine  house  hath  eaten  me  up.  So 
inwrought  into  Mr.  Fayson's  mental  habits  were  the  Scriptures  of 
truth,  that  he  thought,  breathed,  and  spoke,  in  their  manner.  Those, 
however,  will,  or  ought  to  be,  the  last  to  complain,  who  can  resolve 
all  the  characteristic  expressions  and  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  Bi- 
ble into  "  strong  eastern  figures." 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


107 


evening ;  but  had  some  assistance.  Was  aided  in  wri- 
ting, but  greatly  oppressed  with  pride  and  vanity,  which 
made  their  attacks  upon  me  in  inexpressible  shapes,  while 
I  could  do  nothing. 

"  May  5. — Spent  this  day  in  the  woods,  in  fasting  and 
prayer,  with  a  view  to  obtain  mortification  of  my  abomi- 
nable pride  and  selfishness.  Was  favored  with  much 
fervency  and  enlargement  the  former  part  of  the  day,  but 
was  afterward  much  deserted  ;  seemed  to  make  no  advan- 
ces in  holiness;  to  be  of  no  advantage  to  the  world,  and 
unfit  to  live. 

"  May  6. — Had  some  freedom  in  prayer.  Felt  very 
feeble  and  unfit  for  study  ;  but  praying  that  Christ's 
strength  might  be  made  perfect  in  ray  weakness,  I  was 
helped  to  write  more  than  usual. 

"  May  7. — Out  of  order  both  in  body  and  mind.  Did 
little  in  my  study,  and  had  little  freedom  in  prayer. 

"  May  8. — Had  some  life  and  fervency  this  morning  : 
but  was  exercised  with  wandering  thoughts.  Could  do 
little  all  day, 

"  May  9. — Was  much  perplexed  with  some  business 
with  ****  so  that  I  could  neither  read  nor  pray,  any  more 
than  I  could  remove  a  mountain.  This  was  made  useful 
to  me.  I  saw  by  it  the  weakness  of  my  graces,  and 
learned  to  judge  more  favorably  of  those  Christians  who 
are  exposed  to  the  temptations  of  the  world.  It  showed 
me  also  my  need  of  divine  help  more  clearly  than  ever. 
Were  I  exposed  to  the  same  temptations,  I  should  lose 
all  sense  of  divine  things  without  greater  supports  than  I 
ever  had. 

"  May  10. — Was  very  unwell,  and  could  neither  eat, 
read,  nor  pray.    Was  excessively  melancholy. 

"  May  11. — Was  still  more  oppressed  with  melancho- 
ly, and  felt  even  more  miserable. *********Was  ashamed 
of  my  selfishness  and  ingratitude  in  despising  the  bless- 
ings God  had  given  me.  Remained  very  wretched  and 
unable  to  do  any  thing.    In  the  evening  had  some  relief. 

"  May  12. — Was,  if  possible,  still  more  gloomy  and 
depressed  than  yesterday.  Seemed  unfit  to  preach  and 
even  to  do  any  thing.    Could  only  wander  about  from 


108 


MKMOIR  OF 


place  to  place,  seeking  rest  and  finding  none.  In  the 
evening  a  person  arrived  from  Marlborough,  inviting  me 
to  come  and  preach  four  Sabbaths.  Alter  putting  up  a 
short  but  sincere  petition,  that  I  might  not  be  left  to  my 
own  guidance,  and  asking  the  advice  of  my  father,  I  pro- 
mised to  go.  Retired,  and  cast  myself  upon  the  Lord  for 
support,  with  a  deep  sense  of  my  own  utter  insufficiency. 

"  May  13. — Having  set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and 
prayer,  with  reference  to  entering  on  the  work  of  the  min- 
i.stry,  I  sought  the  divine  presence  and  blessing,  in  which 
I  w'as  much  assisted.  Renewed  covenant  with  God,  and 
gave  myself  up  to  him  for  the  work  of  the  ministry.  Was 
helped  to  plead  with  far  more  earnestness  than  ever  be- 
fore ;  and  indeed  with  as  much  as  my  nature  could  sup- 
port, or  was  capable  of,  and  this  repeatedly  during  tlie 
day. 

"May  14. — Was  very  unwell,  and  apprehensive  of  a 
aervous  fever.  Could  not  read  the  most  amusing  books 
without  weariness  and  distraction ;  and  my  body  was  so 
weak,  that  I  could  exercise  but  very  little.  Yet  by  di- 
Tine  goodness  was  preserved  in  a  quiet,  submissive  frame. 

"  May  15. — Was  better,  and  had  some  sweetness  iu 
secret  devotion.  Went  to  see  an  old  man  who  has  bees 
converted  in  his  old  age.  Found  him  full  of  affection, 
and  possessing  remarkably  clear  views  of  God  and  divine 
things,  though  in  other  respects  weak,  and  illiterate. 
Was  somewhat  refreshed  with  his  conversation.  P.  M. 
forced  to  make  a  visit,  but  helped  to  introduce  religious 
conversation. 

"  May  16. — Felt  very  lifeless  in  the  morning  ;  but  in 
secret  prayer  it  pleased  God  to  enliven  me.  In  the  even- 
ing, was  favored  with  equal,  or  greater  degrees  of  ferven- 
cy. My  soul  was  suddenly  humbled  and  broken  for  sin. 
I  seemed  to  be  much  the  least  of  all  saints  ;  and  my  very 
soul  panted  for  God  and  holiness,  as  the  hunted  hart  for 
the  water  brook.    Blessed  be  God  for  this  day. 

"  May  17.— Sabbath,  A.  M.  Very  dull  and  lifeless  ; 
but  in  secret  prayer,  the  cloud  was  removed,  and  I  found 
unspeakable  delight  in  drawing  near  to  God,  and  casting 
myself  upon  him.  Christ  appeared  inconceivably  pre- 
cious, and  I  longed  with  most  intense  desire  to  devote 


EDWAUn  PAY30N. 


109 


myself  to  him,  and  to  be  like  him.  I  could  not  but  rejoice 
with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  to  think  that  God 
in  Christ  was,  and  would  be,  infinitely  and  unchangeably 
glorious  and  happy.  In  Christ  I  beheld  such  fulness  and 
sufficiency,  that  all  my  late  tormenting  fears  respecting 
being  qualified  for  the  ministry,  and  assisted  in  it,  van- 
ished. In  the  evening,  was  overwhelmed  with  a  view  of 
my  remaining  corruptions,  and  especially  of  my  pride,  so 
that  I  was  in  a  perfect  agony,  and  could  scarcely  support 
it.  I  was  just  ready  to  despair,  and  give  up  all  future 
striving  as  vain  ;  but  I  fled  to  Christ,  and  poured  out  all 
my  sorrows  into  his  bosom,  and  he  graciously  pitied  me, 
and  strengthened  me  with  might  in  my  soul.  I  found  un- 
speakal)le  relief  in  telling  him  all  my  sorrows  and  difficul- 
ties.   O,  he  is  wonderfully,  inconceivably  gracious. 

"  May  18. — Had  very  little  freedom  or  fervency.  Was 
perplexed  with  the  scene  before  me  ;  and  could  effect  but 
little. 

"  May  19. — Went  with  my  father  to  the  Association 
for  the  purpose  of  receiving  their  approbation  to  preach 
the  gospel.    Was  exceedingly  fatigued. 

**  May  20.  Was  examined  and  approbated.  Was  so 
weak  that  I  could  scarcely  stand  ;  but  was  helped  in  some 
measure." 


no 


VEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  VI. 

His  first  efforts  as  a  preacher — His  religious  character 
further  developed. 

Having  been  regularly  introduced  and  recommended 
to  the  churches,  as  a  preacher,  Mr.  Payson  proceeded,  the 
next  day,  to  Marlborough,  to  fulfil  his  engagement  with 
the  people  of  that  place.  Change  of  situation,  however, 
did  not  interrupt  his  communion  with  God.  On  the  way, 
his  mind  was  engrossed  with  divine  contemplations,  and 
with  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  that  new  relation 
in  which  he  now  stood  to  the  church  and  the  world.  Du- 
ring the  time  that  intervened  between  this  and  the  Sab- 
bath, he  was  not  without  misgivings  ;  as  he  complains  of 
being  '  almost  discouraged  and  overwhelmed  in  view  of  his 
unfitness  for  the  ministry  ;'  and  once,  of  even  '  wishing 
himself  any  thing  rather  than  a  minister.'  He  '  could 
hardly  conceive  it  possible,  that  one  so  inconceivably  vile 
should  be  a  child  of  God  ;  but  was  nevertheless  helped  to 
cast  his  burden  on  the  Almighty,  and  to  agonize  in  prayer 
to  be  delivered  from  this  body  of  death.'  The  Saturday 
next  preceding  his  first  appearance  in  the  pulpit,  he  had 
'  resolved  to  spend  in  fasting  and  prayer  ;'  but  when  the 
day  arrived,  his  '  health  would  not  permit.'  The  day,  on 
which  a  man  first  stands  forth  as  the  ambassador  of  God 
to  his  fellow  men,  is  an  important  era  in  his  life  ;  but  it 
had  been  anticipated  with  so  much  concern  by  Mr.  Pay- 
son,  that  it  seems  to  have  been  distinguished  by  no  extraor- 
dinary strength  of  feelings.  His  own  account  of  them  is 
thus  expressed  : 

"  May  24. — Sab.  Was  favored  with  considerable  fer- 
vency, life,  and  sense  of  dependance,  this  morning.  En- 
deavored to  cast  myself  wholly  on  the  Lord  for  support. 
Felt  thankful  it  was  rainy.  There  were  very  few  people 
at  meeting  ;  and  I  just  got  through  without  stopping. 
Spoke  too  fast,  and  too  low.    Was  a  good  deal  depressed 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


Ill 


after  meeting.  In  the  afternoon  did  a  little  better,  but 
still  bad  enough.  Was  very  much  fatigued,  and  almost 
in  a  fever  ;  but  enjoyed  some  comfort  after  meeting." 

His  public  engagements,  important  as  he  felt  them  to 
be,  did  not  divert  his  attention  from  his  own  heart.  On 
the  contrary,  personal  religion  continued  to  be  a  primary 
concern.  Of  this,  as  well  as  of  the  varied  nature  of  his 
spiritual  exercises,  there  is  an  accumulation  of  evidence. 

"  May  28. — Enjoyed  a  very  unusual  degree  of  sweet- 
ness and  fervor  this  morning.  O,  how  precious  did  Christ 
appear  to  my  soul !  How  I  longed  be  a  pure  flame  of  fire 
in  his  service,  to  be  all  zeal,  and  love,  and  fervor  !  With 
what  gratitude  did  I  look  up  to  him,  saying,  Blessed  Sa- 
viour, behold  how  happy  I  am  !  and  to  thee  all  my  happi- 
ness is  owing.  But  for  thee  I  should  now  have  been 
lifting  up  my  eyes,  being  in  torments.  O,  what  shall  I 
render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits.  In  the  evening, 
in  secret  prayer  my  soul  was  filled  with  unutterable  long- 
ings and  insatiable  thirstings  after  God  in  Christ.  I  earn- 
estly desired  that  all  mankind  might  be  as  happy  as  I  was  ; 
that  they  should  all  see  what  a  glorious,  amiable  being 
God  is,  that  they  might  love  and  praise  him.  Retired  to 
rest  with  a  clear,  sweet,  realizing  apprehension  of  my 
Saviour's  presence,  and  dropped  to  sleep  in  this  fi-ame. 

"  May  29. — Enjoyed  much  of  the  same  spiritual  sweet- 
ness, which  I  felt  last  evening  ;  but  was  much  exercised 
on  account  of  pride,  or  rather  love  of  applause,  which  was 
excited  by  some  approbation,  which,  I  lately  heard,  was 
bestowed  on  my  preaching.  Strove  with  all  my  might  to 
be  delivered  from  this  hateful  temper,  and  cried  for  some 
time  to  my  supporter  and  strength  ever  to  grant  me  his 
grace  to  help.  Recalled  to  mind,  that  I  had  nothing, 
which  I  had  not  received  ;  that  I  had  most  wickedly  and 
shamefully  wasted,  and  neglected  to  improve  my  talents  ; 
that  applause  was  commonly  ill  bestowed  ;  and  that  the 
praise  of  men  was  of  no  worth  compared  with  the  appro- 
bation of  God.  By  the  divine  blessing  on  these  and  other 
similar  considerations,  I  was  helped  to  overcome  it.  In 
the  evening  was  much  assisted  in  prayer.    Had  a  greater 


112 


MEMOIR  OF 


spirit  of  wrestling  for  the  conversion  of  sinners,  tiian  1 
ever  had  before." 

He  is  often  '  discouraged  by  the  little  which  he  accom- 
plishes, and  the  selfish  motives  with  which  that  little  is 
defiled.'  He  is  assailed  by  '  strong  temptations,  which 
drive  him  to  his  knees  for  assistance  ;'  and  by  '  frequent 
recurrence  of  the  same  temptation,'  which  costs  him  long 
and  severe  '  struggles,  before  he  is  favored  with  complete 
victory.'  This  is  followed  by  '  increased  confidence  in 
God,  as  able  to  supply  all  his  need,  and  at  the  same  time, 
with  a  more  humbling  sense  of  his  unfitness  for  the  minis- 
try.' And  even  when  he  is  in  a  '  lively  frame'  during 
several  successive  days,  he  is  still '  astonished  at  his  slow 
progress  in  religion.'  Again,  '  pride  and  unbelief  begin 
to  work,  and  render  him  miserable,'  and  for  defence 
against  them  he  resorts  '  to  prayer,  pleading  various  ar- 
guments for  the  space  of  an  hour,  before  he  is  able  to  re^ 
press  pride  and  repining  thoughts.'  Nor  is  this  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  conflict :  he  has  such  '  a  dreadful  view  of 
his  heart,  that  he  could  scarcely  support  the  sight  of  him- 
self;'while  this,  'instead  of  humbling,  only  distressed 
him,  so  that  he  is  at  last  obliged  to  desist,  without,  as  he 
can  perceive,  any  answer  at  all.'  The  next  day  he  can 
cry,  "  Abba,  Father  !"  with  all  the  confidence  of  filial  love  : 

"  June  6. — Had  many  sweet  seasons  of  prayer  during 
the  day,  and  was  assisted  in  pleading  for  the  presence  of 
the  divine  Spirit  to-morrow. 

"  June  8. — Had  great  earnestness  in  secret  prayer. 
Longed  to  be  wholly  devoted  to  God.  Thought  if  I  could, 
from  this  time,  do  every  thing  for  his  glory,  I  would  wil- 
lingly resign  every  worldly  comfort,  and  be  the  most  de- 
spised object  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Went  to  a  funer- 
al, and  was  assisted  in  speaking  to  the  mourners,  and  in 
prayer. 

"  June  9. — Renewed  covenant,  and  took  God  for  my 
God,  and  gave  myself  up  to  him  in  sincerity  and  with 
more  joy  than  I  ever  did  before.  In  the  afternoon  was 
favored  with  another  most  sweet  and  refreshing  season  in 
secret  prayer.    Have  seldom,  if  ever,  felt  more  fervency, 


EDW\nn  PAYSON. 


113 


more  hatred  of  sin,  and  more  longing  desires  after  holi- 
ness. 

"  June  10. — The  family  being  mostly  absent  to-day,  I 
resolved  to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer,  tor  a  supply  of 
ministerial  gifts  and  Christian  graces ;  especially  that  I 
might  be  made  an  able,  faithful,  and  successful  minister 
of  the  New  Testament.  Was  assisted,  both  last  night 
and  this  morning,  in  seeking  the  div  ine  presence  and  bless- 
ing. God  graciously  heard  and  answered  me.  I  was  fa- 
vored with  great  and  unusual  fervency  and  perseverance 
in  prayer,  was  enabled  to  confess  and  mourn  over  my  sins, 
and  to  mourn  because  I  could  not  mourn  more,  and  was 
assisted  in  renewing  covenant  with  God,  and  in  giving 
myself  up  to  be  his  forever.  Was  entirely  exhausted,  and 
worn  out  in  body  and  mind,  before  night,  by  the  strong 
and  unutterable  desires  I  felt  after  personal  holiness  and 
the  success  of  Christ's  kingdom.  On  the  whole  it  has 
been  a  very  profitable  day  to  my  soul,  as,  by  divine  good- 
ness, most  if  not  all  my  fast  days  have  been." 

Four  days  after  this,  he  experienced  a  most  melancholy 
reverse,  viewing  himself  as  the  '  most  vile,  loathsome, 
worthless  wretch  in  existence  ;  could  only  throw  himself 
prostrate,  and  uttei  the  cry  of  the  publican — "  God,  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !"  The  cause  of  this  distress  is 
unintentionally  indicated.  He  was  "  sick  in  body  Siud 
mind."  But, 

"  As  poison  oft  the  force  of  poison  quells," 

SO  the  far  more  wretched  condition,  and  still  more  melan- 
choly prospects  of  a  fellow  creature,  caused  him  to  forget 
his  own  misery  : 

"  Was  called  to  see  a  sick  man  supposed  to  be  dying  ; 
he  was  a  professor,  aged  87.  Found  him  something 
alarmed,  but  he  gave  no  satisfactory  evidence  of  a  change, 
stated  to  him  his  danger  and  the  remedy,  but  I  fear  to 
little  purpose.  Was  much  assisted  in  preaching.  My 
strength  continued,  and  even  increased,  though  quite  ex- 
hausted at  the  close.  Went  to  see  the  sick  man  again. 
Found  him  better  in  body,  but  worse  in  mind. 

"June  16. — Had  no  heart  to  confess  my  sins,  could 
10* 


114 


MEMOIR  01' 


find  no  words  which  would  do  any  thing  towards  it.  Saw 
no  hope,  scarcely  any  possibility  of  being  either  happy  or 
useful.  Tried  all  day  to  study,  but  could  neither  write 
nor  read,  and  was  completely  discouraged.  It  seemed  as 
if  I  must  give  up  preaching. 

"June  17. — Had  some  life  this  morning,  but  was 
harassed  with  wandering  thoughts.  Seemed  to  myself 
more  vile  than  any  other  creature  existing.  Expect  an 
occasion  for  a  funeral  sermon,  yet  could  effect  nothing. 
Seldom,  if  ever,  spent  a  more  painful  day.  Was  ready  to 
say,  what  profit  shall  we  have,  if  we  pray  unto  him  ;  for  I 
prayed  once  and  again,  but  found  no  relief  In  the  even- 
ing felt  a  little  better,  but  then  was  ready  to  sink,  and 
seemed  fit  for  nothing  but  to  be  fuel  for  God's  wrath. 

"  June  18. — Suffered  more  of  hell  to-day,  than  ever  I 
did  in  my  life.  O,  such  torment.  I  wanted  but  little  of 
being  distracted.  I  could  neither  read,  nor  write,  nor 
pray,  nor  sit  still. 

"  June  19. — Rose  in  the  same  state  of  mind  in  which  I 
lay  down.  Rode  out,  and  felt  some  better,  so  that  I  found 
some  liberty  to  pray.  P.  M.  Went  with  fear  and  tremb- 
ling to  attend  a  funeral.  Was  assisted  in  speaking  to  the 
mourners  ;  as  the  multitude  was  very  great,  I  was  request- 
ed to  pray  out  of  doors  ;  and  though  the  situation  was 
new,  and  I  was  unwell,  I  was  carried  through.  Felt  some 
relief  from  my  load  of  melancholy, and  was  enabled  to  write. 

"  June  20. — Set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and  prayer. 
Was  unusually  assisted  in  pleading  for  increase  in  holi- 
ness. Felt  such  intense  longings  and  thirstings  after 
more  love  to  God  and  man,  more  devotedness  to  God's 
will,  more  zeal  for  his  glory,  that  my  body  was  almost 
overcome.  Towards  night  was  enabled  to  plead  with 
greater  fervency  than  ever,  so  that  I  trust  this  will  prove 
the  most  profitable  day  1  have  ever  had.  In  the  evening 
was  greatly  assisted  in  prayer,  so  that  I  could  scarcely 
retire  to  rest. 

"  June  21. — Went  to  meeting  with  raised  expectations ; 
but  it  pleased  God  to  leave  me  more  destitute  than  usual, 
though  I  was  carried  through.  When  I  first  came  out  of 
the  pulpit  I  was  not  in  a  very  good  frame  ;  but  before  I 
got  half  way  home,  was  easy,  satisfied,  and  even  pleased 


EDWARD  1>AYS0N. 


to  be  despised,  so  that  God's  will  might  be  done.  Was 
much  more  assisted  in  the  afternoon.    Felt  thankful. 

"Jane  22. — Very  unusual  degrees  of  fervor,  this  morn- 
ing. Very  unwell  all  day,  and  did  little  in  my  study.  In 
the  evening  was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  my  own  un- 
worthiness.    O,  how  wretchedly  my  life  passes  away  ! 

"  June  23. — As  soon  as  I  awoke  this  morning,  my  heart 
was  filled  with  most  intense  love  to  God  and  Christ,  so 
that  it  was  even  ready  to  break  for  the  longing  desires  it 
had  to  go  forth  after  God.  I  was  greatly  assisted  in  pray- 
ing that  I  might  be  made  an  instrument  of  promoting  the 
divine  glory  in  the  world. 

"  June  25. — Thinking  it  would  be  more  convenient  to 
keep  my  weekly  fast  on  this  day,  sought  the  divine  pres- 
ence and  blessing.  Felt  some  warm  affections  towards 
my  Saviour,  at  first,  but  afterwards  could  neither  realize 
my  wants,  nor  pray  to  have  them  removed.  Continued  in 
this  frame  till  towards  night,  and  was  then  favored  with  a 
deep  sense  of  my  utter  vileness.  Was  also  enabled  to  plead 
even  with  agony  of  soul  to  be  freed  from  the  power  of  a 
selfish  nature.  Could  not  think  of  being  any  longer  sub- 
ject to  it. 

"  J««c  26. — Much  favored.  Felt  insatiable  desires  af- 
ter holiness,  and  that  I  might  spend  every  moment  of  fu- 
ture life  to  the  divine  glory. 

"June  29. — Faint  yet  purming,  is  a  good  motto  for 
me.  Could  do  nothing  in  the  morning,  but  in  the  after- 
noon gave  up  all  hopes  of  ever  doing  any  thing.  Iniqui- 
ties seemed  to  prevail  against  me,  and  I  was  ready  to 
de.spair.  But  throwing  myself  on  the  Lord  Jesus  for  help, 
I  received  strength.  In  the  evening  was  favored  with 
freedom.  Felt  that  1  am  much  more  habitually  affected 
by  religious  subjects,  than  I  have  been  formerly,  nor  are 
my  affections  less  vehement,  or  less  easily  excited. 

"  June  30. — Was  ready  to  sink  and  be  discouraged  in 
view  of  my  exceeding  sinfulness  and  little  progress  in  re- 
ligion. 

"July  1. — Much  sweetness  in  prayer  this  morning. 
Felt  broken  and  contrite  for  sin.  P.  M.  Was  greatly 
sunk  and  depressed.    Seemed  to  be  a  poor,  miserable, 


116 


MEMOIR  OB 


useless  wretch.  Went  and  poured  forth  my  sorrows  at 
the  feet  of  my  compassionate  Saviour,  and  Ibund  relief 
O,  how  gracious  is  our  God. 

"  Jidy  2. — Still  oppressed  with  a  load  of  melancholy  ; 
but  had  much  freedom  in  pouring  forth  my  sorrows  into 
the  bosom  of  my  God. 

"  .full/  3. — Set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and  prayer. 
Had  no  kind  of  engageduess,  but  was  harassed  with 
wandering  thoughts.  Believe  it  is  owing  to  the  state  of 
my  health. 

"  Jiili/  4 — Was  a  dark  day,  but  had  some  gleams  of 
light  at  intervals. 

"  July  5. — Sab.  Had  some  devout  feelings  and  de- 
sire after  assistance  this  morning ;  but  could  not  get  hold 
of  any  thing  in  a  very  realizing  manner.  Was  very  much 
deserted  in  prayer  and  seruion,  and  felt  much  distrssed. 
But  in  the  afternoon  was  favored  with  great  enlargement 
both  in  prayer  and  sermon.  Felt  a  strong  love  for  souls, 
and  for  the  Lord  Jesus.  Was  weak  and  exhausted  :  but 
after  resting  awhile  had  a  most  sweet,  refreshing,  strength- 
ening season  in  prayer.  Never  before  fielt  so  much  of 
the  spirit  of  the  gospel.  Felt  like  a  pure  flame  of  love 
towards  God  and  man.  Self  seemed  to  be  almost  swal- 
lowed up.  Felt  willing  to  go  any  where,  or  be  any  thing, 
by  which  God  could  be  gloritied,  and  sinners  saved.  Felt 
my  hopes  of  being  useful  in  the  world  strengthened.  O, 
how  lovely,  how  kind,  how  condescendingly  gracious  did 
my  God  appear !  Gave  myself  up  to  him  witiiout  reserve, 
and  took  him  for  my  only  portion.  Blessed  be  his  name 
for  this  season. 

"July  6. — Rode  out  this  morning,  and  found  much 
sweetness  in  continually  lifting  up  my  heart  to  God  in 
fervent  ejaculations.  In  the  evening  had  such  a  view  of 
the  difiiculties  in  my  way,  and  of  my  exceeding  sinfulness, 
that  I  was  ready  to  sink;  but  my  blessed  Saviour  put 
forth  his  hand  and  caught  me. 

"July  7. — Was  harassed  with  wandering,  gloomy,  and 
distressing  imaginations.  Could  not  fix  upon  a  text,  and 
was  much  perplexed  what  to  do.  Was  overwhelmed  with 
melancholy.    P.  M. — Went  to  a  funeral  and  was  favored 


EDWAHU  PATSON. 


117 


with  some  assistance.  Went  to  make  a  visit;  found  good 
Christian  people,  a  most  kind  reception,  and  profitable 
conversation." 

Few  enjoyments  were  more  exquisitely  satisfying  to 
Mr.  Payson,  than  those  which  he  derived  from  religioue 
intercourse.  In  a  company  of  fellow  Christians,  whose 
feelings  would  rise  responsive  to  his  own,  when  the  themes 
of  a  Saviour's  love,  and  of  human  obligation  and  privi- 
lege were  agitated,  his  soul  seemed  to  revel  in  spiritual 
delights  ;  and  he  was  gifted  by  nature  and  grace  with  the 
prerogative  of  infusing  a  rich  portion  of  his  own  emotions 
into  the  rest  of  the  favored  circle.  These  interviews  are 
remembered  by  many  a  surviving  pilgrim,  as  among  the 
liveliest  emblems  of  that  'better  country,'  which  he  has 
ceased  to  anticipate  by  actual  fruition.  It  is  not  without 
a  degree  of  shrinking  that  we  follow  him  in  his  sudden 
transition  from  scenes  like  these  into  the  very  depths  of 
distress — awaking  the  following  morning, 'weak  dejected^ 
melancholy,  regarding  himself  as  useless  in  the  world, 
born  only  to  sin,  and  abuse  the  mercies  of  his  Saviour 
and  God,  to  disgrace  the  religion  which  he  preached, 
and  bring  dishonor  on  the  blessed  name  by  which  he  was 
called' — in  a  word,  'oppressed  with  a  load  of  guilt,  so 
that  he  did  not  dare  to  retire  to  his  chamber,  till  driven 
thither,  and  even  there,  while  prostrate  in  the  dust,  could 
hardly  refrain,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  from  praying 
to  be  released  from  the  body  !'  In  the  debilitated  state 
of  his  nervous  system,  and  in  his  impaired  health,  the 
reader  will  see  a  physical  cause  for  this  depression.  He 
had  actually  no  more  reason  to  doubt  of  his  safety,  than 
he  had  in  his  most  joyful  frames.  On  this  point,  his  own 
judgment  seems  to  have  been  sufficiently  discerning,  even 
when  its  decisions  could  not  summon  to  his  aid,  that 
relief  for  which  he  sighed  ; — for  in  immediate  connection 
with  these  heart-rending  lamentations,  he  says — "Other 
griefs  leave  the  mind  strength  to  grapple  with  them  ;  but 
this  oppressive  melancholy  cuts  the  very  sinews  of  the 
soul,  so  that  it  lies  prostrate,  and  cannot  exert  itself  to 
throw  off  the  load." 

The  next  day  after  penning  this  graphic  and  unequalled 
description  of  his  real  malady,  he  is  seen  in  the  "chariot 


118 


MEMOIR  OF 


of  Amminadib,"  his  mind  moving  with  an  angel's  speed, 
and  performing  the  labor  of  many  days  in  one. — "Was 
favored  with  fervency  and  freedom  in  prayer.  Was  greatly 
assisted  in  writing,  through  the  day,  and  wrote  nearly 
two  sermons.  Felt  in  a  composed,  thankful  frame,  all 
day  ,  and  felt  the  most  ardent  love  for  the  Lord  Jesus,  and 
for  all  mankind." 

In  the  mitigated  forms  of  melancholy  there  is  a  soul- 
subduing  power,  which  few  are  able  to  resist.  It  then 
loses  its  repulsive  character,  and  the  soul  of  the  witness  is 
attracted  and  melted  into  sympathy.  A  mind,  conscious 
of  its  misery,  yet  retaining  its  balance,  and  surveying  its 
own  desolations  with  unrepining  submission,  presents  a 
spectacle  of  moral  sublimity,  not  surpassed  by  any  thing 
which  falls  under  human  observation.  This  constitutes 
one  of  the  charms  of  our  Saviour's  character,  and  much 
of  the  value  of  his  example.  In  this  attitude  Mr.  Payson 
may  be  seen  in  some  of  the  following  extracts,  and  very 
often  in  the  course  of  his  life.  In  the  second,  there  is 
the  expression  of  a  '  wish,'  which,  if  rigidly  interpreted, 
might  be  understood  as  indicating  a  criminal  dissatisfac- 
tion with  life.  But  it  is  an  involuntary  wish,  not  incom- 
patible with  innocence  of  mind  ;  for  it  has  its  counterpart 
in  the  spotless  Sufferer  of  the  garden  of  Gethsemane. 

"  July  17. — Find  that  the  two  principal  things  in  which 
I  fail  externally,  are,  the  due  improvement  of  time,  and 
the  government  of  my  tongue.  I  daily  lose  many  mo- 
ments, I  might  almost  say,  hours,  in  giving  way  too  much 
to  my  feelings  of  gloom  and  discouragement  ;  and  I  say 
many  things  which  at  best  are  unprofitable. 

"  July  18. — Almost  distracted  ;  but  was  kept  mo.st  of 
the  time  from  repining  or  murmuring,  only  sometimes  I 
could  not  help  wishing  that  I  were  extinct  ;  but  this  was 
wrung  from  me  by  the  pressure  of  anguish,  for  my  soul 
was  exceeding  sorrowful. 

"  July  19. — Sab.  Rose  very  early,  worn  out  in  body 
and  mind  ;  but  felt  sweetly  resigned  to  the  divine  will, 
and  was  willing  to  be  assisted  as  much,  and  as  little,  as 
God  should  see  fit.  Had  some  assistance ;  but  after 
meeting  was  excessively  weak  and  depressed,  thought  I 


EDWARD  PAT  SON. 


119 


would  give  the  world  if  I  never  had  preached,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  I  never  should  go  into  the  pulpit  again. 

"  July  20. — Overwhelmed,  sunk,  discouraged  with  a 
sense  of  sin.  All  efforts  seemed  to  be  in  vain.  Discove- 
ries of  my  vileness,  instead  of  humbling  me,  as  might  be 
expected,  only  excited  discouragement  and  unbelief; 
while  the  manifestations  of  God's  love  only  make  me  proud 
and  careless.    My  wretched  soul  cleaves  to  the  dust ! 

"  July  22. — O,  what  a  dreadful,  what  an  inconceivable 
abyss  of  corruption  is  my  heart  !  What  an  amazing  de- 
gree of  pride  and  vanity,  of  selfishness  and  envy  does  it 
contain. 

"  July  23. — Was  excited  to  feel  fretful  and  peevish  at 
two  or  three  trifling  circumstances  ;  but  fled  for  refuge  to 
the  throne  of  grace,  and  by  praymg  for  myself,  for  the 
persons  with  whom  I  was  disposed  to  be  offended,  and 
especially  by  meditating  on  the  meekness  and  gentleness 
of  Christ,  was  enabled  to  preserve  peace  and  tranquillity 
of  mind.    Was  much  assisted  in  prayer. 

"  July  24. — Was  visited  by  a  young  student  in  divini- 
ty, and  had  some  profitable  conversation  with  him.  W^as 
never  able  to  converse  in  a  clearer  manner  upon  religious 
subjects. 

"  July  25. — This  being  my  birth  day,  I  set  it  apart  for 
solemn  fasting  and  prayer,  with  thanksgiving.  After  con- 
fessing and  mourning  over  the  sins  of  my  past  life,  and 
contrasting  them  with  God's  mercies,  and  offering  up 
praise  and  thanksgiving  for  his  goodness,  I  solemnly  re- 
newed covenant  with  God,  and  with  my  whole  heart,  so 
far  as  I  could  judge,  gave  myself,  my  friends,  and  all  that 
I  have,  to  be  disposed  of  as  he  should  see  fit.  I  felt  wil- 
ling to  live  or  die,  as  God  pleased,  and  to  go  among  the 
Indians,  or  to  any  part  of  the  world,  where  I  could  be  in- 
strumental in  promoting  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  happi- 
ness of  man.  Felt  unusually  longing,  insatiable,  and  in- 
tense desires  after  hoUness  of  heart  and  life,  and  especial- 
ly after  humility.  Was  never  enabled  to  pray  more  fer- 
vently for  spiritual  blessings — could  wrestle  and  persevere 
therein.  Felt  an  impression  that  this  is  the  last  birth  day 
I  shall  ever  see." 


120 


MEMOIR  OP 


The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  he  was  so  far  spent 
with  its  labors,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could  reach 
his  lodgings.  The  night  was  passed  without  rest,  and  of 
his  increased  weakness  in  the  morning  '  Satan  was  suf- 
fered to  take  advantage,  and  fill  his  mind  with  unuttera- 
ble anguish.'  But  he  '  found  relief  in  prayer,  and  felt 
strengthened  to  go  on  with  fresh  vigor  in  his  Christian 
course,  exclaiming — O,  how  true  it  is,  that,  to  those  who 
have  no  miglit,  he  increaseth  strength.' 

"  July  29. — I  yesterday  read  an  author  on  the  subject 
of  human  depravity,  and  being  perplexed  with  some  of  his 
objections,  prayed  to  be  guided  to  the  truth  in  this  doc- 
trine. Was  now  convinced  beyond  a  doubt,  that  in  me 
naturally  dwelt  no  good  thing.  O,  how  vile,  how  loath- 
some did  my  heart  appear.  I  was  ready  to  think  I  had 
never  known  any  thing  at  all  of  my  own  character  before, 
and  that  there  were  infinite  depths  in  my  nature,  that  I 
could  not  see,  In  the  course  of  the  day  was  favored  with 
still  further  discoveries  of  myself,  of  true  holiness,  and  of 
Christ,  so  that  I  seemed  never  to  have  known  any  thing 
of  religion  before. 

"  Atig.  3. — My  blessed  Saviour,  compassionating  my 
weakness,  was  pleased  to  make  me  strong  in  himself,  and 
to  favor  me  with  a  most  refreshing  season.  Never  felt  so 
desirous  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ,  and  at  the  same 
time  more  willing  to  live*  and  undergo  all  hardships  for 
his  glory.  Desired  that  my  life  might  be  spent  in  a  close 
walk  with  God." 

His  *  desire  to  become  a  missionary,'  revived  about  this 
time,  but  did  not  ripen  into  a  fixed  purpose,  for  the  plain 
reason,  that  he  could  not  determine,  that  such  was  the 
will  of  God.  He  submitted  the  decision  of  the  question 
to  his  Master  in  heaven,  praying,  '  that  God  would  do 
with  him  as  he  pleased,  in  this  respect.' 

"  Aug.  5.  Was  greatly  perplexed  and  distressed,  but 
tried  to  keep  myself  in  a  quiet,  waiting  frame,  but  found 

*  "  Nor  love  thy  life,  nor  hate  ;  but  what  thou  livest 
Lire  well ;  how  long  or  short,  permit  to  heaven." 


EDWAKD  PAYSON. 


121 


great  difficulty  in  keeping  out  impatient,  murmuring 
thoughts.  Could  not  determine  whether  my  being  thus 
deserted  was  to  punish  me  for  my  siothfulness  and  mis- 
improvement  of  time,  or  only  for  the  trial  of  my  faith  and 
patience.  My  soul  remembered  the  bitterness  and  the 
gall  which  it  had  once  before  experienced,  on  a  similar 
occasion,  and  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  a  renewal." 

E.Ktracts  might  be  multiplied,  exhibiting  him  as  '  sink- 
ing in  deep  waters,  where  the  floods  overflow  him,'  and 
then  again  '  surprised  with  a  sudden  visit  from  his  blessed 
Lord,  fall  of  sweetness  to  his  soul'  : — his  mind  at  one 
time  so  clogged  in  its  operations  by  his  burdens,  that  he 
'  tried  in  vain  to  write  ,'  at  another,  so  buoyant,  that, 
'  though  almost  confined  to  his  bed,  he  is  enabled  to  write 
a  whole  sermon  in  a  day.'  This  contrast  is  no  where 
more  strikingly  marked,  than  by  the  following  entry,  af- 
ter suffering  froTn  '  melancholy,  which  overwhelmed  him 
like  a  thousand  mountains,  so  that  his  soul  was  crushed 
under  it :' 

"  Aug.  15. — Ro.se  in  a  sweet,  tranquil,  thankful  frame, 
blessing  God  for  the  storm  of  yesterday,  and  the  calm  to- 
day. O,  how  great  is  his  wisdom,  how  great  his  good- 
ness !  Had  faith  and  freedom  in  prayer.  Yesterday  I 
thought  God  himself  could  hardly  carry  me  through.  But 
to-day — O,  how  changed  !" 

Before  this  the  reader  may  have  expected  to  learn  what 
influence  his  secret  devotions  had  on  the  services  of  the 
sanctuary,  also  the  result  of  his  public  labors  in  regard  to 
the  people  to  whom  he  ministered.  It  is  almost  superflu- 
ous to  add,  that  they  were  not  without  effect.  Others 
"  took  knowledge  of  him,  that  he  had  been  with  Jesus." 
The  solemnity  and  unction  of  his  social  prayers  ;  the  earn- 
estness and  variety  of  argument  with  which  he  pleaded  at 
the  throne  of  grace  ;  his  unyielding  importunity  for  the 
blessings  which  he  sought, — had  roused  attention,  and 
drawn  forth  the  confession,  that  '  the  Spirit  of  the  Holy 
God  was  within  him.'  "  God  must  help  him,  or  he  could 
never  pray  so," — said  an  observing  man,  who  had  previ- 
ougjy  professed  no  regard  for  religion.  Herein  he  doubt- 
11 


122 


MEMOIR  OF 


less  expressed  the  generally  prevailing  sentiment,  as  Mr. 
Payson  mentions  among  his  trials,  "  well-meant,  but  inju- 
dicious commendations" — while  he  renders  '  all  the  glory 
to  God,  who  did  not  suffer  him  to  forget  his  own  weak- 
ness.' 

But  besides  the  general  impression  produced  by  his 
preaching,  he  was  instrumental  of  individual  conversions. 
More  than  once  he  was  allowed  to  record  an  event  like 
the  following — "  Truly  in  faithfulness  God  afflicts  me. 
Early  this  morning,  a  young  man  came  to  me  under  deep 
distress  of  mind,  and  gave  pretty  satisfactory  evidence  that 
he  had  experienced  a  real  change.  He  said  he  had  re- 
ceived great  benefit  from  my  preaching.  This  was  a  very 
seasonable  cordial  to  my  fainting  spirits."  Such  events 
caused  him  to  '  retire  to  his  chamber,  overflowing  with 
wonder  and  gratitude  at  God's  unmerited  goodness  to  such 
a  miserable  wretch.' 

His  faithful  conversation  was  also  blessed  to  the  family 
with  whom  he  resided  -f'aBd  the  last  Sabbath  on  which  he 
officiated  at  Marlborough,  it  was  his  happiness  to  propound 
his  host  and  hostess,  as  candidates  for  admission  into  the 
church.  Thus  early  did  God  honor  his  ministry,  and 
give  him  an  earnest  of  the  power  which  was  to  attend  the 
word  dispensed  by  him. 

Enough  has  been  developed  to  show  the  secret  of  Dr. 
Payson's  greatness,  and  of  his  success.  He  laid  hold  on 
the  divine  strength.  Prayer,  by  which  the  creature  com- 
munes with  God,  and  obtains  grace  to  help  in  every  time 
of  need,  was  eminently  the  business  of  his  life,  and  the 
medium  through  which  he  derived  inexhaustible  supplies. 
It  was  not  the  stated  morning  and  evening  incense  alone, 
which  he  offered  ;  but  that  he  had  '  much  enlargement, 
and  many  sweet  seasons  of  prayer  during  the  day,'  is  mat- 
ter of  frequent  record,  and  probably  of  still  more  frequent 
experience.  Almost  incessantly  was  he  conversant  with 
spiritual  and  eternal  things.  His  conversation  was  in 
heaven.  He  also  valued  and  sought  the  intercessions  of 
others.  In  a  letter  to  his  parents,  probably  the  first  he 
ever  wrote  after  he  commenced  preaching,  he  says — "  I 
beg  you  to  pray  for  me  most  earnestly  and  importunately. 
I  seem  to  be  walking  on  a  hair,  and  hardly  dare  go  down 
to  breakfast  or  dinner,  lest  I  should  say  or  do  something 


EDWARD  PAY  SON. 


123 


which  may  disgrace  the  ministry,  or  hurt  the  cause  of 
religion,  so  that  I  shall  never  need  your  prayers  more 
than  now." — The  sensibility  to  danger,  here  so  apparent, 
though  it  occasionally  subjected  him  to  temporary  indeci- 
sion and  perplexity,  was,  next  to  the  promised  support  of 
the  Most  High,  his  greatest  security. 

It  will  also  have  been  seen,  that  Mr.  Payson  was  sub- 
ject to  great  extremes  of  feeling — at  one  time,  "  caught 
up"  with  Paul  where  he  '  heard  things  unutterable'  ;  at 
another,  sunk  to  the  lowest  point  of  depression,  where 
existence  was  a  "  burden  too  heavy  for  him."  Many  have 
imagined  his  Christian  career  to  have  been  one  of  unin- 
terrupted joy  and  triumph,  and  such  will,  perhaps  regret 
any  allusion  to  those  seasons,  when  'his  soul  was  cast 
down  in  him  but  to  keep  these  out  of  sight,  would  be 
to  conceal  a  class  of  affections,  from  which  his  exercises, 
language,  and  conduct  received  important  modifications. 
Subsequently  to  this  time,  there  were,  in  his  character, 
phenomena  to  be  accounted  for  )  and  the  causes,  which 
it  is  impossible  wholly  to  suppress,  may  as  well  be  fairly 
divulged,  as  merely  insinuated  and  left  for  suspicion  to 
magnify.  Scoffers  and  revilers  will  draw  poison  from  the 
disclosure — and  what  will  they  not  pervert  ? — but  others 
will  improve  it  to  a  holier  purpose ;  for 

"  With  a  soul  that  ever  felt  the  sting 
Of  sorrow,  sorrow  is  a  sacred  thing." 

There  are  minds  so  delicately  strung,  that  they  cannot 
escape  its  most  distressing  attacks.  Friendship,  philoso- 
phy, and  even  religion,  as  it  exists  in  imperfect  man,  can- 
not oppose  a  complete  barrier  to  its  influence.  With 
many,  in  fact,  it  is  the  principal  part  of  their  religious  dis- 
cipline. The  best  of  men  have  occasionally  groaned  un- 
der its  pressure.  It  made  Job  "  weary  of  his  life  ;"  and 
that  pensive,  tender  hearted  prophet,  who  was  sanctified 
from  the  womb,  and  to  whom  the  subject  of  this  memoir 
bore  no  slight  resemblance,  complains — "  When  I  would 
comfort  myself  against  sorrow,  my  heart  is  faint  in  me  !"' 
Why  should  it  be  thought  strange,  then,  that  uninspired 
men  are  not  exempted  from  this  calamity  ? 

"  'Tis  not,  as  heads  that  never  ache  suppose, 
Forgery  of  fancy,  and  a  dteam  of  woes  ; 


i24 


B^^EMOIK  OF 


Man  is  a  harp,  whose  chords  elude  the  sight, 

Each  yielding  harmony,  disposed  aright  ; 

The  screws  reversed,  (a  task,  which,  if  he  please, 

God  in  a  moment  executes  with  ease.) 

Ten  thousand  thousand  strings  at  once  go  loose. 

Lost,  till  he  tuue  them,  all  their  power  and  use." 

"  No  wounds  like  those  a  wounded  spirit  feels. 

No  cure  for  such,  till  God,  who  makes  them,  heals." 

And  yet  how  barbarously  is  the  state  of  mind,  here  de- 
scribed, treated  ! 

"  This,  of  all  maladies  that  man  infest, 
Claims  most  compassion,  and  receives  the  least ; 
Job  felt  it,  when  lie  groaned  beneath  the  rod 
And  the  barbed  arrows  of  a  frowning  God  ; 
And  such  emollients,  as  his  friends  could  spare, 
Friends  such  as  bis  for  modern  Jobs  prepare. 
Blest,  rather  curst,  with  hearts  that  never  feel, 
Kept  snug  in  caskets  of  close  hammered  steel, 
With  mouths  made  only  to  grin  wide  and  eat, 
And  minds,  that  deem  derided  pKiin  a  treat, 
With  limbs  of  British  oak,  and  nerves  of  wire, 
And  wit,  that  puppet-prompters  might  inspire, 
Their  sovereign  nostrum  is  a  clumsy  joke 
On  pangs  enforced  with  God's  severest  stroke." 

Language,  which  is  wrung  from  a  man  by  the  agony  ot 
feeling,  will,  nevertheless,  be  variously  interpreted  by  dif- 
ferent readers,  as  they  shall  sympathize  or  not  with  his 
doctrinal  belief  Had  the  expressions,  already  quoted, 
and  which  in  the  mouth  of  a  cold  calcidator  would  cer- 
tainly indicate  a  disgust  with  life,  escaped  Mr.  Payson  at 
a  later  period,  immediately  on  some  reverse  in  his  pros- 
pects by  which  his  fame  would  be  affected — they  might 
have  been  regarded  as  the  language  of  disappointed  am- 
bition, presenting  a  case  analagous  to  that  of  the  disobe- 
dient prophet,  who,  because  God  had  averted  from  Nine- 
veh the  catastrophe,  which  he  had  predicted,  thought  he 
'  did  well  to  be  angry,  even  unto  death.'  But  he  had  just 
entered  on  his  profession,  had  matured  no  schemes  of 
self-exaltation,  was  without  a  rival,  and  a  mere  sojourner, 
not  knowing  whither  his  next  remove  would  be,  or  where 
his  ultimate  destination  would  place  him.  His  pretensions 
were  as  modest,  and  his  expectations  as  humble,  as  those 
of  any  man  in  similar  circumstances.  And  so  far  from 
suffering  the  chagrin  of  disappoint  meat  j  his  preaching^ 


125 


was  regafded  with  a  degree  of  approbation,  which  exceed- 
ed liis  highest  hopes.  In  no  case  do  these  expressions 
indicate  a  deliberately  formed  and  cherished  wish  ;  on 
the  contrary,  they  are  the  utterance  of  a  momentary  and 
involuntary  ieeling  ;  a  feeling  suddenly  excited,  and  more 
6uddenly  rejected  ;  a  feeling,  therefore,  which  might  have 
left  the  mind  wholly  uncontaminated  with  guilt. 

"  Evil  into  the  mind  of  God  or  man 

May  come  and  go,  so  unapproved,  and  learo 

No  spot  or  blame  behind." 

In  judging  of  this  class  of  his  exercises,  it  should  not 
be  tbrgotten,  that  his  health  was  already  undermined,  his 
system  had  lost  much  of  its  elasticity,  and  encountered  a 
shock  from  the  effects  of  which  it  never  afterwards  re- 
covered. Besides,  he  had  a  constitutional  predisposition 
to  melancholy,  which  other  branches  of  his  family  are  said 
to  have  inherited  to  a  still  more  painiul  degree.  This 
caused  hiin  frequently  to  view  every  thing  connected  with 
his  own  personal  security,  prospects,  and  usefulness, 
through  the  medium  of  a  distorting  and  aggravating 
gloom.  But  to  make  his  faith  accountable  for  his  distress- 
es, would  be  the  highest  offence  to  his  now  sainted  spirit, 
and  the  grossest  libel  upon  that  religion,  which  bore  him 
above  the  immeasurably  accumulated  sufferings  of  his  last 
days.  His  religion,  instead  of  being  the  cause  of  his 
gloom,  was  his  only  refuge  from  its  overwhelming  effects. 
The  precious  doctrines  of  grace,  according  to  his  own 
views  of  them,  alone  kept  him  from  sinking.  His  distress, 
indeed,  was  often  owing  to  inadequate  causes,  and  his 
'  mind  slow  to  receive  the  comfort,'  which  God  is  ever 
ready  to  bestow  ;  but  if,  with  his  own  views  of  the  gospel, 
he  was  sometimes  melancholy,  with  different  views  he 
would  have  gone  distracted. 

These  remarks  are  not  intended  as  a  defence,  but  as  an 
impartial  exiiibition  of  facts.  We  are  not  concerned  to 
approve  of  every  thing  in  Mr.  Payson's  character.  .  He 
was  a  man — a  sinner  ;  and  it  is  well  for  survivers  that  he 
had  faults,  lest,  in  looking  at  him,  they  should  lose  sight 
of  his  and  their  Saviour.  To  a  man,  whom  so  many  ex- 
cellencies rendered  lovely,  and  who  was,  in  the  best  sense, 
the  benefactor  of  thousands,  they  would  be  in  danger  of 
11* 


126 


MEM-om  (TF 


rendering  a  sort  of  idolatrous  homage,  if  there  were  no 
features  in  liis  character,  to  be  contemplated  with  pain  a)id 
regret.  So  far  as  the  destruction  of  his  health  was  brouglit 
on  by  his  own  imprudences,  he  is  to  be  blamed  ;  and  is 
in  a  measure  responsible  for  the  consequences.  He  did 
not  foresee  them,  it  is  true,  but  thought  himself  an  excep- 
tion to  a  general  law ;  still  he  should  have  hearkened  to 
the  parental  voice  which  warned  him.  He  erred  too — if 
one  may  say  it  without  arrogance,  whose  pretensions  to 
piety  are  as  nothing  compared  with  his — in  looking  too 
much  to  frames  for  the  evidences  of  his  piety.  He  was 
too  solicitous  for  sensible  enjoyment,  and  too  much  dis- 
turbed by  its  absence.  Yet  however  deep  his  sadness  at 
these  times,  he  had  not  a  settled  melancholy.  With  his 
susceptibility  he  could  not,  probably,  have  survived  a  long 
period  of  spiritual  desertion,  and  to  this  h*  was  not  doom- 
ed ;  but  he  was  too  impatiently  eager  for  total  exemption, 
and  for  this  he  was  most  severely  chastised  by  the  same 
kind  hand  which  so  plentifully  rewarded  his  fidelity. 

There  is,  however,  one  aspect,  in  which  all  the  hard- 
ships that  he  imposed  on  himself,  the  ruin  of  his  constitu- 
tion by  abstinence,  night  vigils,  and  extraordinary  exertion 
and  even  all  his  mental  agonies,  may  be  viewed  with  a 
feeling  of  entire  reconciliation.  All  these  trying  process- 
es, to  which  he  subjected  his  minxi,  may  justly  be  regard- 
ed as  a  series  of  experiments  on  himself,  designed  by 
Providence  for  the  good  of  the  church,  indeed  of  the  hu- 
man race.  To  him,  in  the  exercise  of  his  future  ministry, 
they  were  incalculably  valuable.  The  knowledge  ac- 
quired by  this  painful  experience  was  not  without  vast  ex- 
pense to  himself;  but  it  constituted  one  of  his  most  im- 
portant qualifications  for  aiding  numerous  other  souls 
through  the  labyrinths  of  error  and-  mental  distress.  In 
this  way  he  was  taught  "  how  to  speak  a  word  in  season 
to  him  that  is  weary" — to  be  "  a  guide  of  the  blind,  a  light 
to  them  that  are  in  darkness,  a  teacher  of  babes."  So 
familiar  did'  he  become  with  almost  every  possible  case  of 
conscience,  every  form  of  spiritual  trial  and  delusion,  to 
which  either  inquirers  or  established  Christians  are  expo- 
sed, that  he  could  instantly  recognize  their  syinptoms,  and. 
apply  the  needed  antidote. 

In  all  bis  revolutions  of  feelin^g,  varied  exercises,  anii 


EI)WAKT>  PAYSON. 


127 


changing  frames,  there  is  discoverable  an  unvarying  sim- 
plicity of  purpose.  The  destruction  of  sin,  and  the  ex- 
tension of  the  empire  of  holiness  in  himself  and  others, 
are  the  objects  constantly  before  him.  His  eye  was  sin- 
gle, and  directed  to  the  gJery  of  God  ;  and  he  longed  ibr 
the  salvation  of  men,  as  the  work,  in  which  the  divine 
glory  eminently  appears.  He  complains  frecjiiently  ol  his 
pride,  vanity,  and  selfishness — qualities,  doubtless,  emin- 
ently congenial  with  his  unrenewed  nature,  but  which 
were  now  evidently  most  unwelcome  intruders,  and  which 
it  was  his  constant  grief  that  he  could  not  wholly  dis- 
lodge. Let  those,  who  would  convert  his  full  confes- 
sions into  a  proof,  '  that  he  was  sinful  above  all  men,' 
be  reminded,  that,  if  they  were  to  watch  the  motions  of 
their  own  hearts  with  the  same  unrelenting  severity,  they 
might  find  even  greater  abominations,  than  any  of  which 
he  complains,  holding  hitherto  undisturbed  empire  over 
their  souls  ;  and  not,  as  in  him,  annoying,  yet  conquered, 
passions,  which  the  gracious  principle  would  in  the  end 
wholly  eradicate. 

On  the  18th  of  August,  he  took  '  a  very  affectionate 
leave  of  the  family,  by  whom  he  had  been  so  kindly  en-, 
tertuined,  and  revisited  home,  where  he  spent  three  days  j 
and  then  '  set  out  in  a  violent  rain  for  Andover,'  Mass. 
where  he  had  an  engagement  to  preach,  and  '  felt  some 
con.solation  in  reflecting  that  he  was  going  on  his  Father's 
and  Saviour's  business.'  The  second  day  he  arrived, 
*  wet,  wearied,  and  defected.'  Of  his  performances  on 
the  following  Sabbath  he  says — "  I  had  little  assistance  in 
preaching,  and  pleased  ncitliar  the  piujiU.  nor  niynidf." 
He  here  expresses,  not  an  opinion  merely,  but  a  fact. 
Popular  as  lie  deservedly  was,  his  preaching  was  not  re- 
garded with  favor  by  the  church  in  North  Andover, 
which  had  been  left  destitute  by  the  death  of  Dr.  Symmes.. 
Whether  it  were  owing  to  their  preference,  or  his,  or  to 
a  speciat  providence,  he  tarried  there  but  one  Sabbath„ 
and  his  next  remove  was  to  tlie  scene  of  his  future  labors 
— a  field  vastly  more  extensive,  and  one  which  he  wa» 
eminently  fitted  to  occupy. 


128 


MCMUIR  or 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Visits  Portland — his  favorable  reception,  and  Ordination. 

On  the  morning  of  Monday,  August  24th,  Mr.  Payson 
left  AnJover  for  Portland  ;  his  mind  absorbed  with  heav- 
enly ineditationis  on  the  road,  and  praying  and  renewing 
his  covenant  with  God  at  his  resting  places.  Stop  where 
he  might,  he  was  sure  to  find,  or  to  make  the  place  a 
Bethel  ;  and  while  the  soleinnity  of  his  devotions  resem- 
bled that  of  the  patriarch's,  on  his  way  to  Padan-aram  ; 
his  faith  realized  what  that  patriarch  saw  in  vision,  and 
found  an  open  way  of  communication  between  earth  and 
heaven.    Thus  he  journied, 

"  Prayer  all  his  business,  all  his  pleasure  praise." 

He  arrived  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  and  lost  no 
time  in  renewing  his  acquaintance,  and  entering  on  his 
new  duties  there.  The  frightful  reputation  of  being  a 
Hopkinsian  had  preceded  him,  and  accounts  in  part  for 
the  following  entry  in  his  Diary  : 

"  Aug.  27. — Visited  a  number  of  my  old  friends,  lest 
they  should  think  me  sour  and  morose,  and  so  pay  less 
regard  to  my  preaching.    Was  kindly  received." 

A  letter  to  his  parents,  contains  more  on  the  same  sub- 
ject : 

"  Portland,  Aug.  31, 1807. 

"  I  arrived  here  on  Wednesday  morning,  26th  inst. 
after  a  very  pleasant  ride,  from  wiiich  I  have  already  de- 
rived sutiicient  advantage  to  compensate  me  for  the  time 
and  expense.  My  health  seems  wonderfully  improved  ; 
I  enjoy  sound,  refreshing  sleep,  wliich  I  have  not  for  two 
moiitlis  before,  and  I  feel  strong  and  able  to  study.  Nor 
shall  I  derive  less  advantage,  in  another  point  of  view, 
from  this  tour.  Mr.  Kellogg  tells  me,  that  he  had  heard 
in  Boston,  that  I  was  rapidly  gaining  the  title  and  reputa- 


EnWARD  FAYSON. 


129 


tion  of  a  Hopkinsian  ;  and  that  a  great  part  of  his  plan, 
in  getting  me  here,  was  to  counteract  that  report,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  K.  to  make  something  of  me, 
to  use  his  own  expression.  However  this  may  be,  he  seems 
disposed  to  be  of  service  to  me,  and  has  already  given 
me  some  hints,  that  will  be  very  beneficial.  He  has  also 
a  good  library,  and  I  shall,  I  trust,  be  able  to  spend  the 
time  here  both  profitably  and  agreeably.  As  the  people 
here  have  heard  that  I  am  a  Hop,  and  think  it  a  great 
pity  that  a  harmless  young  man  should  be  transformed  in- 
to siich  a  shocking  creature,  I  thouglit  it  might  have  a 
good  effect,  to  call  upon  all  my  old  acquaintance,  in  order 
to  convince  them  that  my  religion  was  not  of  that  morose, 
unsocial  kind  which  they  supposed  ;  and  that  a  Hopkin- 
sian, supposing  me  to  be  one,  was  not  quite  so  bad  as  the 
devil.  My  visits  were  received  more  kindly  than  I  ex- 
pected, and,  I  have  reason  to  think,  will  in  some  measure, 
produce  the  designed  effect." 

Mr.  Payson  entered  upon  the  appropriate  duties  of  his 
calling  with  the  most  e.xcmplary  diligence  and  energy, 
and  the  effects  were  almost  immediately  visible.  Such 
was  the  attention  excited  by  his  preaching,  that  he  seems 
to  have  regarded  himself  as  in  great  danger  of  thinking 
more  highly  of  himself,  than  he  ought  to  think,  and  to 
have  brought  all  his  spiritual  forces  to  bear  against  this 
propensity.  With  reference  to  this  he  observed  frecpient 
seasons  of  humiliation,  and  oftener  renewed  the  consecra- 
tion of  himself  and  his  talents  to  God.  It  was  the  burden 
of  his  secret  prayers,  that  he  might  be  delivered  from 
pride,  from  self-seeking,  from  preaching  himself,  instead 
of  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord. 

"  Srpt  6. — Heard  my  performances  much  commended  ; 
and  fearing  lest  I  should  feel  puffed  up,  I  withdrew,  and 
prayed  earnestly  that  I  might  be  preserved  from  it.  And 
God  was  pleased  to  assist  me  in  a  most  wonderful  and  un- 
usual manner  in  pleading,  not  only  for  that  and  other  mer- 
cies, but  in  renewing  covenant  with  him,  and  praising 
him  for  all  his  mercies.  Never  felt  more  gratitude,  more 
humility,  more  love  to  God  and  benevolence  to  man,  than 
at  this  time.    Indulged  some  hopes  that  God  would  pour 


130 


MEMOIR  OP 


out  his  Spirit,  but  hardly  expected  it.  Saw  that  all  the 
mercies  I  received  were  bestowed  for  the  sake  of  my 
Lord  Jesus  alone  ;  and  that  in  myself  I  was  far  more  de- 
serving  of  hell,  than  of  all  that  happiness.  Could  not 
praise  God  as  I  wished,  but  my  soul  panted,  and  almost 
fainted  with  ardor  of  desire  to  glorify  him,  and  be  wholly 
devoted  to  his  service. 

"  Sept.  14. — Read  Baxter  on  pride.  Was  almost  over- 
whelmed to  see  how  much  I  have  in  my  heart.  CouM 
hardly  refrain  from  despairing  of  ever  being  humble." 

In  a  letter  to  his  father,  written  a  few  days  after  this, 
he  complains  of  himself  in  the  following  strain  : 

"  I  almost  despair  of  making  any  improvement  in  this 
world.  God  keeps  loading  me  with  one  blessing  on  an- 
other, but  I  cannot  grow  any  more  grateful,  i  cannot 
feel  less  proud,  less  selfish,  less  worldly  minded.  O,  if 
God  by  his  Spirit  did  not  prevent  me,  and  still  in  a  man- 
ner force  me  to  keep  striving  almost  against  my  will,  I 
should  give  up  in  despair.  It  makes  no  difference — let 
me  labor  ever  so  much,  and  feel  ever  so  lively  while  alone, 
the  moment  I  go  into  the  pulpit,  or  a  conference  meeting, 
I  am  as  dead  and  stupid  as  a  post,  and  have  no  realizing 
sense  of  divine  things.  The  meeting  house  is  the  grave 
of  every  thing  good,  and  the  place  where  corruption  al- 
ways gets  the  mastery.  Sometimes  it  seems  impossible 
that  it  should  be  so.  I  set  out  from  home  so  strong,  so 
raised  above  the  world,  with  so  much  zeal  for  God,  and 
so  much  compassion  for  poor  perishing  sinners,  that  I 
cannot  help  hoping  it  is  going  to  be  better  with  me.  But 
the  moment  I  begin,  it  is  all  gone  !  When  I  seem  to  b« 
much  engaged,  and  the  people  think  I  am  all  on  fire,  I 
fear  that  God  sees  my  heart  like  a  mere  block  of  ice.  If 
there  are  any  who  can  look  back  with  pleasure  on  a  life 
well  spent,  I  can  hardly  hope  that  I  am  a  Christian,  or 
that  I  ever  shall  be  one  ;  for  never  shall  I  be  able  to  do 
that.  Adieu,  my  dearest  parents  ;  do  continue  to  pray 
for  me,  for  I  am  walking  on  ice,  or,  as  the  prophet  says, 
"  in  slippery  places  in  darkness."  / 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


131 


Mr.  Payson's  situation  was  at  this  time  truly  critical 
and  dangerous.  His  reception  as  a  preacher  was  flatter- 
ing almost  beyond  example.  Not  one  man  in  a  thousand 
can  L)ear  human  applause  uninjured.  "  Woe  unto  you," 
said  Christ  to  his  disciples,  "  when  all  men  shall  speak 
well  of  you."  The  most  dreadful  part  of  this  woe  is  that, 
which  falls  upon  one's  spiritual  interests.  Mr.  Payson 
had  scarcely  been  six  weeks  in  Portland,  before  overtures 
were  made  to  him  by  each  of  the  three  Congregational 
societies,  to  become  their  teacher  ;  and  there  was  also  a 
plan  agitated  to  build  him  a  new  meeting  house.  Appli- 
cations from  different  parishes  in  the  vicinity,  and  like- 
wise from  abroad,  were  frequent.  The  letters,  which  he 
wrote  to  his  parents  at  this  period,  contain  interesting  al- 
lusions to  his  circumstances. 

"  Portland,  Sept.  12,  1807, 

My  dearest  Parents, 

When  I  came  here,  I  could  not  help  indulging  a  secret 
hope,  that  I  should  be  so  favored  as  to  see  some  happy 
effects  resulting  from  it.  I  know  not,  however,  whether 
it  arose  so  high  as  hope  ;  it  was,  pexhaps,  rather  a  wish. 
Whether  this  wish  will  in  any  degree  be  gratified,  is  at 
present  uncertain.  The  people  seem  to  rouse  themselves 
up,  and  stare,  and  hardly  know  what  to  make  of  it.  They 
however,  appear  to  exhibit  less  enmity  and  ill-will,  than  I 
expected.  Some  of  the  principal  men,  who  are  not  sus- 
pected of  being  very  friendly  to  religion,  say,  as  I  am  in- 
formed, that,  to  be  sure,  my  sermans  are  rather  hot,  but 
they  are  convinced  no  other  kind  of  preaching  would  ever 
do  any  good.  Others  say,  it  cuts  up  all  their  own  foun- 
dation, and  all  their  hopes  of  heaven  ;  but  they  think  it 
a  duty  to  support  these  doctrines,  because  they  are  true. 
The  congregation  is  very  solemn  and  attentive  ;  but  I 
dare  not  yet  hope  for  any  lasting  effects.  Some  are  di.s- 
plea.sed,  and  have  left  the  meeting  ;  but  there  are  three 
come  from  other  meetings  for  one  who  goes  away.  The 
power  of  novelty,  however,  is  great,  and  when  that  is  over, 
I  expect  there  will  be  less  attention,  and  less  crowded 
meetings." 

•       *       *  * 

"  I  understand  there  is  quite  a  revival  of  religion  at 


132 


MKMOTR  er 


North- Yarmouth,  about  a  dozen  miles  from  this  place. 
There  have  already  been  two  or  three  there^  and  they 
seem  to  be  remarkably  tavored.  One  memorable  in- 
stance, which  has  lately  taken  place,  I  have  just  heard. 
Three  females,  the  wives  of  three  sea-captains  who  were 
all  at  sea  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  were  deeply  im- 
pressed ;  and,  after  severe  convictions,  obtained  comfort. 
Just  about  the  same  time,  all  their  absent  husbands  were 
converted  at  sea.  The  wives,  meanwhile,  were  anxious 
for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  their  husbands,  and  the  hus- 
bands were  no  less  concerned  for  their  wives.  Judge 
what  a  happy  meeting  they  must  have  had  when  they 
foiand  what  God  had  done  for  each  other  during  their 
separation.  The  attention  is  still  increasing,  and  there 
have  been  about  thirty  added  to  the  church." 

September  19. 
"  I  have  been  ill  a  week  of  the  influenza,  which  at- 
tacked me  pretty  severely.  It  seems  as  if  it  was  sent  to 
afford  a  fresh  opportunity  for  displaying  the  unwearied 
care  and  kindness  of  our  heavenly  Father,  in  raising  up 
friends  whenever  I  want  them.  In  this  case  he  has  pro- 
vided me  a  nurse  and  a  mother  in  the  woman  who  pre- 
sides over  the  family  in  Mrs.  K.'s  absence.  She  has 
been  doubting  respecting  her  state  and  her  right  to  join 
the  church  for  some  years  ;  and  was  so  thankful  because 
I  conversed  with  her  on  these  subjects,  that  she  was  rea- 
dy to  kill  me  wrth  kindness.  In  addition  to  this  I  have 
boen  overwhelmed  with  preserves,  jellies,  &c.  of  the  rich- 
est kinds,  from  all  parts.  Some  have  .sent  them  in,  from 
whom  I  -should  have  little  expected  it.  It  seems  as  if 
God  were  putting  it  to  trial,  whether  my  insensible  heart 
can  be  wrought  upon  by  mercies.  I  fear  the  result  of 
the  trial  will  be,  that  nothing  but  severe  judgments  will 
answer. 

I  Sometimes  think  it  strange,  that,  when  God  is  so 
ready  to  bestow  mercies,  he  does  not  enable  us  to  receive 
them  with  more  gratitude  ;  and  why  he  seems  less  ready 
to  give  us  grace  to  conquer  pride  and  self  Pray  for  me, 
my  dear  parents,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  conquer 
them." 


EDWARD  PAYSON 


133 


Sept.  26. 

"  I  am,  and  have  been  for  some  days,  in  a  great  dilem- 
ma. Last  Monday  I  liad  an  application  to  preach  for  a 
new  society  here,  which  Mr.  S.  the  missionary  has  lately 
drawn  together.  They  are  building  a  meeting-house, 
and  expect  to  be  incorporated  at  the  next  session  of  the 
Legislature.  They  have  heard  me  at  Mr.  K.'s,  and  inti- 
mated, that,  if  I  would  come,  they  should  probably  settle 
me,  as  one  man  had  offered  a  hundred  pounds  to  the  so- 
ciety on  that  condition,  and  thirty  more  had  offered  to 
subscribe  for  pews.  On  Tuesday  I  had  an  invitation 
from  Westboro'  to  come  immediately,  and  another  from 
Gorham.  They  have  also  applied  to  me  to  come  to  Dr. 
Deane's  parish,  and  preach  for  th.em  ;  and  now,  this 
morning,  Mr.  Kellogg  has  a  letter  from  Portsmouth,  wish- 
ing me  to  come  there  immediately.  On  the  other  hand, 
Mr.  K.  insists  upon  it,  that  1  ought  to  stay  with  him 
through  the  month  of  October.  There  seems  to  be  some 
attention  excited,  and  two  persons  have  been  convinced, 
and  I  liope  converted,  since  I  have  been  here.  It  is,  I 
find,  Mr.  K.'s  plan,  if  I  should  prove  popular  enough,  to 
have  a  new  society,  and  unite  it  with  his  own  in  such  a 
manner,  as  to  have  one  parish  in  two  societies,  and  two 
ministers  to  preach  in  each  house  alternately. 

Now,  my  dear  parents,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  am  so 
much  afraid  that  I  shall  be  left  to  lean  to  my  own  under- 
standing, that  I  have  no  comfort.  I  wish  to  go  to  Ports- 
mouth, because  it  is  on  my  way  home ;  but  principally 
because  the  society  there  is  in  a  bad  state,  and  in  great 
danger  of  breaking  up  and  going  to  the  universalists. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  seems  to  be  a  door  opened  for 
great  usefulness  here  ;  and  Providence  has,  in  some  mea- 
sure, owned  my  labors,  and  the  people  seem  very  anxious 
to  have  me  stay.  If  one  could  only  hear  the  Spirit,  as  a 
voice  behind  him  saying,  '  This  is  the  way,  walk  in  it,' — 
it  seems  duty  would  be  easily  discovered.  I  know  that 
there  is  no  need  of  being  uneasy,  when  we  have  done  the 
best  we  can  to  discover  the  path  of  duty  ;  but  there  is  s» 
much  self-seeking  in  every  thing  I  do,  that  I  cannot  be 
sure  I  have  sincerely  sought  to  discover  the  path  of  duty. 
It  is  such  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  left  to  follow  one's  own 
guidance.  My  dear  father,  do  write  to  me." 
12 


134 


MEMOIR  OF 


The  following  sentences  from  his  diary  will  be  regard- 
ed as  a  curiosity  by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  Dr. 
Paysou's  eminence  as  an  extempore  speaker. 

"  Sept.  25. — In  the  evening  went  to  a  conference,  and 
for  the  first  time  expounded  extempore.  Made  out  poorly." 

Kis  rapidly  rising  fame,  and  the  flattering  attentions 
paid  him,  as  a  preacher,  injurious  as  they  can  hardly  fail 
to  be,  did  not  divert  Mr.  Payson  from  the  great  object  of 
the  ministry  of  reconciliation.  If  his  desire  for  personal 
holiness  was  exceeded  by  any  other,  it  was  by  the  desire 
of  the  salvation  of  sinners. 

"  Sept.  27. — Sab.  Was  favored  with  great  and  unusual 
assistance  both  parts  of  the  day,  and  the  people  were  re- 
markably serious  and  attentive.  Came  home  overwhelm- 
ed with  a  sense  of  the  astonishing  goodness  of  God. 
Felt  grateful,  humble,  and  contrite,  and  was  enabled  to 
ascribe  all  the  glory  to  God.  In  the  evening  was  favor- 
ed with  great  faith  and  fervency  in  prayer.  It  seemed 
as  if  God  would  deny  me  nothing,  and  I  wrestled  for  mul- 
titudes of  souls,  and  could  not  help  hoping  there  would 
be  some  revival  here. 

"  Sept.  28. — Found  that  my  labors  have  not  beee  al- 
together without  effect.  Was  favored  with  the  greatest 
degree  of  freedom  and  fervency,  in  interceding  for  oth- 
ers. I  seeined  to  travail  in  birth  with  poor  sinners,  and 
could  not  help  hoping  that  God  is  about  to  do  something 
for  his  glory  and  the  good  of  souls. 

"  Sept.  29. — Was  considerably  affected  with  a  view  of 
the  awful  condition  of  sinners,  and  was  favored  with  some 
freedom  in  praying  for  them. — I  know  not  what  to  tliink, 
but  at  present  there  seems  to  be  some  indications  in 
Providence,  that  this  is  to  be  my  station  in  the  vineyard. 
I  desire  to  bless  God,  that  he  scaroely  suffers  me  either 
to  hope  or  fear  the  event,  but  to  feel  resigned  to  whatever 
he  may  appoint. 

"  Sept.  30. — Felt  much  of  a  dependant,  confiding, 
child-like  spirit.  God  is  doing  great  things  for  me.  I 
nerer  enjoyed  such  a  season  before,  as  I  have  for  these 


EDWARD  PATSON.  135 

three  days  past.  My  heart  overflows  with  love  and  thank- 
fulness to  God,  and  pity  for  poor  sinners. 

"  Oct.  4. — Went  to  meeting  with  more  of  a  solemn 
frame  than  usual.  Was  greatly  assisted,  and  the  congre- 
gation was  apparently  very  solemn  and  devout.  Was 
ready  to  sink,  to  see  how  easily  the  impression  seemed  to 
wear  off. 

"  Oct.  7. — Visited  two  persons  under  conviction,  con- 
versed and  prayed  with  them. — Had  a  most  refreshing 
season  in  secret  prayer.  Renewed  covenant  with  God. 
My  soul  seemed  to  dilate  and  expand  with  happiness. 
All  the  stores  of  divine  grace  were  opened,  and  I  took 
freely  for  myself  and  others.  Was  assisted  to  plead  for 
poor  sinners. 

"  Oct.  8. — Was  favored  with  clear  displays  of  the  di- 
vine glory,  this  morning,  and  was  enabled  to  rejoice  in 
God  with  joy  unspeakable.  Felt  sweetly  humbled  and 
resigned  to  every  thing  which  should  befall  me.  In  the 
afternoon  preached  a  lecture,  and  was  left  dry  and  bar- 
ren. In  the  evening,  preached  another,  and  was  very 
greatly  assisted.  Came  home  humbled  in  the  dust  under 
some  stirrings  of  spiritual  pride,  which  I  could  not  re- 
press. Was  favored  with  a  most  refreshing  season  in  se- 
cret prayer.  Fell  that  love  which  casteth  out  fear,  and 
hung  on  the  bosom  of  my  God  with  inexpressible  plea- 
sure. The  scriptures  too  were  exceedingly  sweet.  Had 
been  in  some  perplexity  re.specting  the  path  of  duty  ;  but 
was  helped  to  roll  the  whole  burden  upon  him. 

"  Oct.  9. —  Was  visited  by  a  minister  who  heard  me 
preach  last  evening,  and  received  many  valuable  hints 
from  him  respecting  my  feelings  in  prayer  and  preaching. 

"  Oct.  11. — Never  was  in  such  an  agony  before  in 
wrestling  for  mercies,  e.specially  in  behalf  of  poor  souls, 
and  for  a  work  of  religion  in  this  place.  My  soul  seem- 
ed as  if  it  would  leave  the  body,  and  mount  to  heaven  in 
the  most  ardent  desires  for  their  salvation.  Went  by  in- 
vitation to  spend  the  evening  in  an  irreligious  family. 
Found  several  assembled,  and  to  my  very  great  but  plea- 
sing surprise,  the  conversation  took  a  very  serious,  reli- 
gious turn.  Came  home  hoping  that  God  was  on  the 
point  of  doing  something  in  this  place,  but  was  so  worn 
out,  that  I  had  little  life  in  prayer. 


136 


MEMOIR  OF 


"  Oct.  16. — Church  meeting — a  profitable  and  refresli- 
ing  time.  Some  new  persons  are  awakened  ;  christians 
are  stirred  up,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  hope  God  is 
on  the  point  of  appearing  for  us. 

"  OctAK. — Was  enabled,  in  some  measure,  to  mourn 
over  my  pride  and  selfishness,  unbelief  and  hardness  of 
heart.  Having  last  evening  proposed  to  the  church  that 
we  should  spend  an  hour  this  evening  in  prayer,  sepa- 
rately, for  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit,  attempted  to  pray, 
but  feared  my  motives  were  selfish.  However,  prayed 
that  God's  people  might  not  be  ashamed  on  my  account. 

Was  informed  that  the  church  and  congregation  had 
given  me  a  unanimous  call.  I  know  not  what  Providence 
intends  by  this.  Went  and  spread  the  matter  before 
God,  and  entreated  him  to  overrule  all  things  to  his  own 
glory. 

"  Oct.  19. — Spent  the  whole  day  in  conversing  with 
persons  exercised  in  their  minds.  In  the  evening  visited 
and  prayed  with  a  number  of  persons,  who  met  for  that 
purpose. 

"  Oct.  20. — Felt  something  of  the  constraining  influ- 
ence of  the  love  of  Christ.  For  some  nights  past  have 
been  laboring  in  my  sleep  with  poor  souls.  Felt  strong  in 
the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might.  In  the  afternoon, 
went  to  visit  two  persons  in  distress,  and  found  them  in 
a  hopeful  way.  In  the  evening  preached  a  lecture  ex- 
tempore. Was  not  much  assisted  myself,  but  what  was 
said  seemed  to  come  with  power.  Many  were  in  tears,  and 
all  seemed  stirred  up ;  so  that  though  I  went  crushed 
down  under  discouragement,  I  came  back  rejoicing. 

"  Oct.  •22. — Began  to  feel  more  clear  respecting  my 
compliance  with  the  call  I  have  received. 

"  Oct.  23. — Was  left  to  murmur  and  feel  impatient, 
and  my  proud,  unhumbled  heart  rose  against  God  ;  but 
he  was  graciously  pleased  to  touch  my  heart  and  bring 
me  on  my  knees  before  him,  and  thus  I  obtained  pardon. 
In  the  evening,  attended  a  conference  and  preached. 
Was  very  much  shut  up,  but  found  it  was  a  most  refresh- 
ing season  to  many  of  God's  people,  so  that  I  was  aston- 
ished to  see  how  God  could  work  by  the  most  feeble 
means. 


EnWARD  I'AYSON. 


137 


"  Oct.  24. — Went  to  visit  a  man  almost  in  despair. 
He  talked  like  a  Christian,  but  was  in  dreadful  distress, 
and  rejected  all  comfort.    Prayed  with  him,  but  in  vain. 

"  Oct.  '2o. — Visited  and  f)ra}  ed  with  a  sick  woman. 
Found  her  and  her  husband  under  strong  convictions. 
In  the  evening  was  visited  by  persons  under  concern  of 
mind,  and  conversed  with  them. 

"  Oct.  27. — In  the  evening  attended  a  conference  and 
preached  to  a  crowded  and  solemn  audience.  Saw  the 
hand  of  God  evidently  appearing  in  it,  and  came  home 
strengthened,  though  1  had  gone  much  cast  down. 
'  "  Oct.  28. — Felt  some  gratitude  and  humility  this 
morning.  Wondered  how  God  could  choose  such  a 
worthle.ss  wretch  to  bestow  such  favors  upon.  Dined 
with  *  *  *^  a  lawyer,  and  had  much  religious  con- 
versation with  him,  with  which  he  seemed  much  affected. 
In  the  evening,  met  a  number  who  were  under  serious 
impressions.    Conversed  and  prayed  with  them. 

"  Oct.  29. — Was  greatly  drawn  out  in  prayer  for  a 
continuance  of  God's  presence,  and  for  myself  and  some 
particular  friends.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting  a  number 
of  persons  who  were  under  concern,  and  found  some,  who 
had  been  dear  to  my  he  irt,  and  who  I  could  hardly  hope 
were  under  conviction,  appeared  to  have  met  with  a  real 
change.  Was  overwhehued  with  wonder,  love,  and  grat- 
itude, at  the  goodness  of  God.  But  as  an  offset  to  this, 
was  informed  of  some  injurious  ob.-^ervations,  and  was 
moreover  harassed  and  almost  distracted  with  doubts 
where  Providence  called  me  to  settle,  but  was  able,  at 
length,  to  cast  the  burden  upon  the  Lord." 

On  the  JiOth  of  October,  he  set  out  on  a  journey  to  his 
father's,  taking  Portsmouth  on  his  way,  where  he  preached 
on  the  Sabbath,  and  received  a  request  from  the  people 
to  tarry  among  them,  which  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  decline. 
He  reached  home  Nov.  3,  and  spent  the  following  day  in 
conversing  with  his  friends.  "  Consulted  them  respect- 
ing my  call,  and  found  that  they  were  unanimous  in  ad- 
vising me  to  accept  the  call  of  Mr.  Kellogg's  parish.  Re- 
joiced to  see  my  path  made  plain  before  me. 


"  Nov.  6. — Parted  from  my  friends  with  prayer,  and 
12* 


138 


MEMOIU  OF 


set  out  for  Portsmouth  in  a  violent  storm  which  continued 
most  of  the  day.  Was  harassed  with  storms  within  part 
»f  the  way,  but  afterwards  was  calm. 

"  Nov.  8. — Was  favored  with  a  most  sweet  refreshing 
season  before  meeting  in  secret  prayer.  Preached  three 
times,  the  last  to  a  crowded  and  solemn  a'jsembly.  Was 
invited  to  stay  and  preach  on  probation,  but  was  obliged 
to  decline. 

"  Nov.  9. — Rode  to  Portland.  Was  favored  on  the 
road  with  very  clear  manifestations  of  God's  love.  Felt 
most  ardent  emotions  of  gratitude,  with  full  resolutions  to 
devote  myself  to  the  service  of  God.  Was  overwhelmed 
with  a  sense  of  his  mercies,  and  my  own  unworthiness. 

"  Nov.  10. — Had  a  deep  sense  of  the  difficulty  and  im- 
portance of  the  gospel  ministry,  and  of  my  own  utter  in- 
sufficiency for  it.  Was  ready  to  sink  under  it,  till  in 
some  measure  relieved  by  a  view  of  the  fullness  and  suffi- 
ciency of  Christ.  Moses  and  Jeremiah  were  very  en- 
couraging examples. 

"  Nov.  13. — In  the  evening  attended  a  church  confer- 
ence, and  preached.  Divine  truth,  though  in  a  humble 
garb,  came  with  great  power,  and  the  hearers  seemed 
much  affected.  After  coming  home,  heard  of  some  diffi- 
culty, made  by  one  of  the  church  members,  respecting  the 
baptismal  covenant,  which  I  wish  to  have  given  up. 
Committed  the  case  to  God. 

"  Nov.  15. — Preached  and  read  my  affirmative  answer 
to  the  call.  Was  favored  with  liberty,  and  the  people 
seemed  to  be  affiscted. 

"Nov.  17.— Visited  a  sick  man  ;  found  him  partly  de- 
ranged, clasping  a  Bible  to  his  breast,  which  he  would 
not  suffer  to  be  taken  from  him. 

"  Nov.  30. — Very  unwell.  From  some  symptoms  feel 
apprehensive  that  my  cough  may  terminate  in  a  consump- 
tion ;  but  the  thought  is  not  disagreeable.  The  only 
thing  painful  about  it  is,  the  pain  it  would  give  my  parents. 

"  Bee.  1. — Had  a  sleepless,  painful  night,  but  through 
divine  goodness  was  kept  patient,  and  even  cheerful. 
Was  very  sick  in  the  morning. 

"  Dee.  3. — Still  quite  unwell,  but  had  a  sight  of  my 
necessities,  and  was  helned  to  crv  out  for  assistance. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


139 


P.  M.  had  a  sweet  season  in  prayer.  Could  pray  sin- 
cerely, that  others  might  be  exalted  above  me  in  gifts  and 
graces,  and  that  souls  might  be  converted,  let  who  would 
be  the  instrument.  Felt  weaned  from  the  world,  and  re- 
signed to  whatever  might  befall  me. 

"  Dec.  4. — Extremely  weak.  Am  convinced  that  I 
cannot  live  many  years,  if  many  months.  Went  out  to 
see  a  sick  person,  and  took  more  cold. 
.  "  Dec.  7. — Rose  early  ;  was  in  a  cloudy  kind  of  frame. 
Visited  and  prayed  with  a  number  of  sick  people.  In 
the  evening  was  favored  with  a  deep  view  of  the  import- 
ance and  magnitude  of  the  ministry,  and  had  much  free- 
dom in  crying  for  grace  to  help. 

"  Dec.  9. — Though  I  have  less  sensible  comfort,  faith 
seems  to  be  in  exercise,  and  I  will  still  trust  in  God, 
though  he  slay  me. 

"  Dec.  10. — Was  seized  with  the  symptoms  of  a  fever. 

"Dec.  11. — Begin  to  think  seriously  that  my  time  is 
short.  My  lungs  appear  to  be  deeply  affected,  and  the 
result  may  be  fatal. 

"  Dec.  12. — Had  a  melting  season  in  prayer  this  morn- 
ing. Felt  viler  than  the  vilest.  Spent  the  evening  with 
my  father,  who  came  to  attend  the  ordination. 

"  Dec.  14. — My  body  and  mind  seemed  alike  weak 
and  incapable  of  exertion.  My  cough  increases,  and  bids 
fair  to  terminate  in  a  consumption. 

"Dec.  15. — Rose  extremely  unwell,  and  continued  so 
during  the  day.  Could  do  nothing.  In  the  evening  tried 
to  pray,  but  was  soon  interrupted  by  weakness  and  lassi- 
tude. 

"  Dec.  IG. — Ordination.  Rose  very  early,  and  re- 
newed my  covenant  with  God,  taking  him  for  my  portion, 
and  giving  myself  up  to  him  for  the  work  of  the  gospel 
ministry.  Had  considerable  assistance  in  this,  and  in 
seeking  ministerial  qualifications  ;  but  my  strength  failed. 
Felt  in  something  of  a  quiet,  happy,  dependant  frame  in 
meeting,  especially  during  the  ordaining  prayer." 

It  is  peculiarly  gratifying  to  peruse  such  a  record,  as 
this  last  paragraph  contains,  of  the  state  of  his  mind  on 
this  most  solemn  and  eventful  occasion.    That  a  mind  so 


140 


MEMOIR  OF 


highly  susceptible,  and  so  frequently  home  down  to  the 
very  dust  by  its  overwhelming  sense  of  ministerial  re- 
sponsibility, should  be  preserved  in  this  "  qii;et,  liappy, 
dependant  frame,"  while  in  the  act  of  assuming  the  most 
weigiity  and  momentous  of  all  trusts  ever  committed  to 
man,— of  consummating  that  sacred  connection,  which  was 
to  atfect  the  everlasting  weal  or  woe  of  numerous  undy- 
ing souls, — can  be  ascribed  to  nothing  but  the  special  fa- 
vor of  God.  It  should  be  noticed  in  honor  of  His  faith- 
fulness, who  will  not  desert  his  devoted  servants  in  any 
trying  emergency.  In  anticipation  of  this  crisis,  and  un- 
der the  responsibilities  of  the  labors,  which  were  con- 
ducting him  to  it,  he  had  habitually  cast  his  burden  upon 
the  Lord,  and  by  the  Lord  was  that  burden  sustained. 
His  mind  was  kept  in  peace,  for  it  was  stayed  on  God. 

"  A  man's  heart  deviseth  his  way,  but  the  Lord  direct- 
eth  his  steps."  Mr.  Payson  went  to  Portland,  with  no 
expectation,  probably,  of  making  that  his  permanent  re- 
sidence, but  merely  to  supply,  temporarily,  Mr.  Kellogg's 
pulpit.  Mr.  K.  undoubtedly  had  a  further  design  in  pro- 
curing his  assistance,  even  from  the  first ;  but  its  accom- 
plisiiment  was  suspended  on  circumstances  yet  to  be  de- 
veloped, and  it  could  not  therefore  be  properly  disclosed. 
But  when  on  experiment  he  saw  the  young  preacher's 
labors  so  well  received  by  the  people,  and  so  evidently 
blessed,  he  spared  no  endeavors  to  retain  his  valuable 
services,  which  he  showed  himself  willing  to  do,  at  the 
expense  of  any  reasonable  sacrifice. 

With  the  feelings,  and  principles,  and  rigid  self-disci- 
pline, the  consciousness  of  human  guilt  and  weakness, 
and  of  the  consequent  necessity  of  an  atonement,  and  a 
divine  power  to  work  all  our  works  in  us  and  for  us, 
which  are  to  be  recognized  in  the  extracts,  that  have 
been  given,  it  is  not  to  be  presumed,  that  Mr.  Payson 
would  show  much  indulgence  to  a  lax  theology,  which 
degrades  the  Saviour,  and  Hatters  man.  It  was  fron» 
deep-rooted  principle,  that  he  could  not  hold  fellowship 
with  such  doctrines,  and  that  he  abstained,  in  his  minis- 
terial intercourse,  from  all  official  acts,  which  would  be 
interpreted  as  a  token  of  such  fellowship.  Hence  he  en- 
dured no  small  share  of  obloquy,  for  which  those  of  a  dif* 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


141 


The  steadfastness,  with  which  he  avoided  giving  the 
least  countenance  to  what  he  regarded  as  "  another  gos- 
pel," must  have  been  greatly  confirmed  by  the  exercises 
at  his  ordination.  The  sermon  on  this  occasion,  preach- 
ed by  his  venerable  father,  was  founded  on  1  Tim.  V.  22  : 
Lay  hands  suddenly  on  no  man,  neither  be  partaker  of 
other  men's  sins,  and  well  illustrated  the  apostle's  '  caution 
against  introducing  persons  suddenly  into  the  ministry, 
and  the  reason,  with  which  that  caution  is  enforced.' 
Some  portions  of  it  seem  to  have  been  almost  prophetic, 
they  show,  at  least,  that  the  author  was  '  able  to  discern 
the  signs  of  the  time.'  The  paragraphs,  containing  the 
application  of  the  subject  to  his  son,  the  pastor  elect,  will 
be  here  inserted.  Though  the  circumstances,  in  which 
they  were  uttered  were  suited  to  render  them  peculiarly 
impressive,  they  will  be  found  to  possess  an  interest  and 
importance  to  commend  them  to  general  attention,  inde- 
pendently of  the  occasion. 

"  In  fulfilling  his  purposes  of  mercy  to  our  apostate 
race,  it  has  pleased  a  sovereign  God  to  constitute  an  or- 
der of  men  to  preach  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ, 
and  thus  to  co-operate  with  himself  in  accomplishing  that 
object,  upon  which  his  adorable  Son  came  into  our  world. 
That  it  is  permitted  me  to  assist  in  introducing  you,  my 
dear  son,  into  this  highly  favored  number,  as  a  fellow 
worker  with  God  in  this  glorious  design,  is  an  act  of  his 
grace,  for  which  I  hope  our  hearts  are  unitedly  adoring 
his  sovereign  love.  How  astonishing  is  the  goodness  of 
God  to  his  unworthy  creatures !  How  great  the  honor  of 
being  admitted  to  share  in  the  glory  of  that  work,  which 
IS  all  his  own  !  This,  however,  is  not  the  hour  of  tri- 
umph. Your  feelings,  I  hope,  accord  with  that  maxim  of 
wisdom — "  Let  not  him  who  girdeth  on  the  harness,  boast 
himself,  as  he  that  putteth  it  off."  Under  the  wise  and 
holy  government  of  God,  no  station  or  office  confers  hon- 
or, but  in  connexion  with  a  faitliful  discharge  of  its  du- 
ties. If  we  would  obtain  that  honor  which  cometh  from 
God  only,  it  must  be  by  "patient  continuance  in  well 
doing."  The  glories,  which  now  crown  the  human  na- 
ture of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  were  won  in  the  field  of 
battle.    They  are  the  just  reward  of  invincible  virtue  and 


142 


MEMOIR  OF 


unexampled  benevolence.  To  be  admitted  into  the  num- 
ber of  his  ministers  is  honorable  for  this  reason  only,  that 
we  are  thus  brought  into  the  field,  where  the  highest 
honor  is  to  be  won  ;  where  all  the  virtuous  feelings  of 
the  heart  have  full  play ;  and  where  an  opportunity  is  af- 
forded of  bringing  into  action  all  the  energies  of  the  soul, 
in  a  service  most  intimately  connected  with  the  glory  of 
God,  and  the  salvation  of  mankind.  In  this  distinguished 
station  we  are  eminently  a  spectacle  to  the  wprld,  to  an- 
gels, and  to  men. 

Your  path  of  duty  is  made  plain  by  the  light  both  of 
precept  and  example.  Every  motive  which  can  influence 
the  human  mind  prompts  you  to  fidelity,  and  for  your  en- 
couragement to  go  boldly  torward  in  the  line  of  duty,  al- 
mighty love  opens  its  inexhaustible  stores  of  wisdom,  grace, 
and  strength,  inviting  you  to  draw  near  and  receive  ac- 
cording to  your  necessities.  The  ol)ject  of  the  observa- 
tions, which  have  now  l)een  made,  is  to  impress  you  with 
a  sense  of  the  importance  of  investigating,  so  far  as  hu- 
man imperfection  will  admit,  the  characters  and  qualifi- 
cations of  candidates  for  the  ministerial  office.  To  me 
this  subject  appears  of  vast,  and,  from  the  character  of 
the  age,  in  which  we  live,  of  increasing  importance.  It 
is  far  from  being  my  wish  to  see  you  contending  for  par- 
ticular forms  of  e.Kpressing  divine  truth,  or  zealously 
engaged  in  supporting  points,  respecting  which,  through 
remaining  imperfection,  wise  and  good  men  are  divided. 
This  is  far  beneath  the  dignified  object,  which  ought  to 
engage  the  attention  of  the  Christian  minister.  But,  if 
my  most  earnest  entreaties,  if  a  father's  solemn  charge 
has  any  influence,  never  will  you  be  induced  to  employ 
the  powers  of  ordination,  with  which  you  are  now  to  be 
invested,  in  raising  the  enemies  of  God  and  his  truth,  t<x 
the  pernicious  eminence  of  teachers  in  the  Christian 
church.  In  pursuing  this  leading  object,  it  has  been  my 
aim  to  present  to  your  mind  the  distinguishing  character- 
istics of  the  pastor  after  God's  own  heart.  I  hope  no 
earthly  attainment  appears  in  your  view  so  desirable,  as 
that  meekness  and  faitiifulness,  that  superiority  to  selfish 
views,  and  those  fervent,  holy,  disinterested  affections,  of 
which  a  sketch  has  now  been  exhinited.  May  they  ever 
be  the  sole  objects  of  your  ambition,  and  be  pursued  with 


EDWARD  PAYSUN. 


143 


all  tliat  ardor,  activity,  diligence,  and  perseverance,  with 
whicli  the  children  of  this  world  pursue  its  pleasures,  its 
honors,  and  wealth. 

In  laboring  to  form  your  mind  to  ministerial  fidelity, 
may  I  not  hope  for  some  assistance  from  that  active  prin- 
ciple of  filial  affection,  which  has  ever  rendered  you  stu- 
dious of  a  father's  comfort  ?  I  can  think  with  calmness, 
Bay,  with  a  degree  of  pleasure,  of  your  sufi'ering  for  right- 
eousness' sake,  and,  should  the  world  pour  upon  you  its 
obloquy,  its  scorn,  and  reproach  for  your  fidelity  to  your 
Master's  cause,  a  father's  heart  would  still  embrace  you 
with,  if  possible,  increased  fondness.  But  to  see  you 
losing  sight  of  the  great  objects,  which  ought  to  engage 
your  attention,  courting  the  applause  of  the  world,  infec- 
ted with  the  infidel  sentiments  of  the  day,  and  neglecting 
the  immortal  interests  of  those,  now  about  to  be  commit- 
ted to  your  care  ; — this,  O  my  son,  I  could  not  support. 
It  would  bring  down  my  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave.  But  is  it  possible,  that  in  such  a  cause,  with  such 
motives  to  fidelity,  and  with  prospects,  may  I  not  add,  so 
peculiarly  pleasing  as  those,  which  now  surround  you,  you 
should,  notwithstanding,  prove  unfaithful  ?  It  is  possible  ; 
for  there  is  nothing  too  base,  too  ungrateful,  or  destruc- 
tive of  our  own  most  important  intere.sts,  for  human  na- 
ture to  commit  ,  and,  unless  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
preserve  you,  the  glory  of  God  will  be  forgotten,  your 
Saviour  vviii  by  you  be  crucified  afresh,  and  his  cause  ex- 
posed to  shame,  your  sacred  character  will  become  your 
reproach,  and,  instead  of  the  blessings  of  many  ready  to 
perish,  you  will  accumulate  the  curses  of  perishing  souls 
upon  your  head.  May  your  preservation  from  this  awful 
fate  be  the  theme  of  our  future  eternal  praises. 

Contemplating  the  sublimity  of  the  apostolic  pattern, 
do  you  ask,  how  shall  I  attain  to  such  activity,  such  zeal, 
such  purity,  such  disinterestedness,  and  ardor  of  affec- 
tion ?  Remember  Paul  was  nothing.  He  himself  makes 
the  confession.  "  It  is  not  I,"  says  he,  "  that  live,  but 
Christ,  that  liveth  in  me  ;  and  the  life,  which  I  now 
live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  faith  on  the  Son  of  God." 
Thus  you  may  live  ;  thus  you  may  come  off  more  than  a 
conqueror,  and,  though  in  yourself  but  a  worm,  may 
thresh  the  mountains  of  opposition,  and  beat  them  small 


144 


MEMOIR  OF 


as  the  dust.  Should  the  blessed  Redeemer  grant,  and 
grant  he  will,  if  you  seek  them,  the  influences  of  his 
Spirit,  your  happy  soul  will  mount  up  as  on  eagle's  wings, 
and  rise  to  all  those  heights  of  holy  affection,  to  which 
the  great  apostle  soared.  But  I  must  set  bounds  to  the 
effusion  of  feelings,  which  have  perhaps  already  exhaus- 
ted the  patience  of  this  assembly.  Receive,  my  dear  son, 
in  one  word,  the  sum  of  all  a  father's  ibad  wishes  ;  "be 
thou  faithful  unto  death." 


EPWAni)  PAVSON 


145 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

His  concern  for  hisjlock — reverse  in  his  temporal  prospects 
— is  taken  from  his  work  by  sickness. 

The  wisdom  of  God  shines  with  most  amiable  lustre  in 
the  institutions  of  religion.  The  intelligent  and  devout 
observer  sees  in  them  evident  traces  of  a  divine  original. 
They  were  ordained  by  him  who  "  knew  what  was  in  man," 
and  recognize  most  advantageously  the  leading  principles 
of  human  nature.  They  have  multiplied  the  relations 
which  subsist  among  men,  as  social  beings,  and  given  to 
social  qualities  an  incalculable  value.  They  cement  every 
tie  which  binds  man  to  his  fellow,  and  sweeten  the  enjoy- 
ments of  every  connection.  They  heighten  all  the  en- 
dearments of  domestic  life,  and  are  designed  and  adapted 
to  bring  all  mankind  into  one  harmonious,  and  happy  fam- 
ily. Though  they  do  not  obliterate  the  distinctions  of 
rank  and  office,  and  especially  that  of  a  teachtr,  they  in- 
struct '  the  head  not  to  say  to  the  foot,  I  have  no  need  of 
thee.'  In  the  church  of  Christ,  the  most  closely  compac- 
ted and  endearing  brotherhood  which  exists  on  earth,  a 
common  fraternal  affection  is  reciprocated  by  its  members 
— an  affection,  growing  out  of,  and  continually  cherished 
by,  their  mutual  dependance,  their  common  wants,  and 
the  sameness  of  their  relation  to  their  Maker  and  Redeem- 
er. In  addition  to  this,  there  is,  in  this  blood-bought  and 
sacred  society,  the  relation  of  pastor  and  flock,  which 
swells  the  aggregate  of  benefit  received  and  of  happiness 
enjoyed,  in  proportion  to  the  numbers  included  in  it.  And 
when  this  relation  is  entered  into  from  evangelical  motives, 
and  with  a  right  spirit,  a  gushing  forth  of  the  affections  is 
felt,  which  was  never  felt  before — a  well-spring  is  opened, 
which  time  cannot  dry  up,  and  which  renders  the  pastor's 
labor  and  toil  for  the  salvation  of  his  charge,  his  choice 
and  his  felicity. — Mr.  Payson  had  already  exhibited  an  in- 
terest in  the  welfare  of  souls,  and  a  desire  for  their  salva- 
tion, so  great  as  to  seem  almost  incapable  of  increase ; 
13 


]4G 


MEMOIR  OF 


but  as  soon  as  the  pastoral  relation  was  consummated,  he 
regarded  those  committed  to  his  oversight  with  an  appro- 
priating, an  endearing  love,  which  identified  their  inter- 
ests and  happiness  with  his  own. 

"Dec.  17. — Was  favored  with  freedom  and  assistance 
in  writing  and  prayer,  and  felt  a  strong  love  for  the  people 
of  my  charge.  In  the  evening  attended  a  meeting  of 
those  who  are  under  concern,  and  had  some  assist- 
ance. 

"  Dec.  18. — Felt  in  a  sweet,  dependant  frame,  and  had 
liberty  to  cast  myself  and  parish  upon  God. 

"  Dec.  19. — Awoke  twice,  after  a  day  of  excessive  fa- 
tigue, drenched  in  a  profuse  sweat,  and  concluded  that 
my  time  was  short. 

"  Dec.  20. — Sab.  Extremely  weak.  Felt  as  if  I  could 
not  preach.  In  the  afternoon,  preached  an  occasional 
sermon,  and  was  wonderfully  carried  through.  Blessed 
be  God. 

"  Dec.  21. — Had  a  sweet  season  in  prayer.  My  soul 
felt  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might.  I 
longed  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  his  service,  and  wonder- 
ed at  his  astonishing  goodness  to  such  an  unworthy  wretch. 
Spent  the  whole  day  in  visiting,  with  some  profit  and 
pleasure.  In  the  evening,  talked  to  a  number  of  people 
on  the  nature  of  religion.  After  returning,  found  myself 
much  exhausted.  Feel  convinced  that  I  am  in  a  consump- 
tion, and  may  as  well  die,  as  cease  my  exertions. 

His  illness  continued  severe  for  several  days,  so  that  he 
was  directed  by  his  physician  to  keep  within.  He  enjoy- 
ed on  the  whole,  much  quietness  and  resignation,  but  says, 
"  I  longed  to  be  abroad  among  my  people."  Dec.  26, 
ten  days  after  his  ordination,  he  expectorated  blood,  and 
"  viewed  it  as  his  death-warrant,  but  felt  tolerably  calm 
and  resigned."  Three  days  later,  however,  he  is  found 
preaching  an  evening  lecture. 

The  calamities,  occasioned  by  the  aggressions  of  foreign 
belligerents,  and  by  the  restrictions  imposed  on  commerce 
by  our  own  government,  fell  at  this  time  with  peculiar 
weight  upon  the  inhabitants  of  Portland.    The  darkest 


EDWARD  VAYSON. 


147 


season,  through  which  the  United  States  have  passed, 
since  their  independence,  had  now  commenced.  The 
distresses  of  the  times  are  the  subject  of  frequent  allusion 
by  Mr.  Payson,  in  his  diary.  Tlie  stagnation  of  business, 
the  failures  among  the  principal  merchants,  the  hundreds 
of  citizens  and  seamen  thrown  out  of  employment,  and 
left  destitute  of  the  means  of  subsistence,  and  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  poor,  called  forth  largely  his  sympathy.  To 
him  the  town  seemed  threatened  with  universal  bankrupt- 
cy ;  and,  whether  with  good  reason  or  not,  he  considered 
the  means  of  his  own  temporal  support  as  cut  off.  But 
the'tranquillity  of  his  mind  was  never  more  uniforni,  than 
at  this  calamitous  season  ;  and  the  object  of  his  supreme 
desire  and  efforts,  was  to  turn  the  distresses  of  the  people 
to  their  spiritual  advantage,  rightly  judging,  that  "  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem  might  be  built  in  troublous  times."  A 
picture  of  these  distresses,  as  they  appeared  to  hira  at  the 
time,  is  drawn  in  a  letter  to  his  parents,  dated, 

"  Portland,  Dec.  28,  1807. 
"  When  father  was  here,  he  observed  that  my  prospects 
were  almost  too  happy  for  this  world.  They  were  so,  it 
appears  ;  for  they  are  now  as  unfavorable,  humanly  speak- 
ing, as  they  were  then  flattering.  The  prospect  of  war 
has  produced  here  such  a  scene  of  wretchedness,  as  I  nev- 
er before  witnessed.  A  large  number  of  the  most  wealthy 
merchants  have  already  failed  ;  and  numbers  more  are 
daily  following,  so  that  we  are  threatened  with  universal 
bankruptcy.  Two  failures  alone  have  thrown  at  least 
three  hundred  persons,  besides  sailors,  out  of  employ  ;  and 
you  may  hence  conceive,  in  some  measure,  the  distress 
which  the  whole  number  must  occasion.  The  poor  house 
is  already  full,  and  hundreds  are  yet  to  be  provided  for, 
who  have  depended  on  their  own  labor  tor  daily  bread, 
and  who  have  neither  the  means  of  supporting  themselves 
here,  nor  of  removing  into  the  country.  Many,  who  have 
been  brought  up  in  affluence,  are  now  dependant  on  the 
cold  courtesy  of  creditors  for  a  protection  from  the  inclem- 
ency of  the  season.  These  things,  however,  are  but  the 
beginning  of  sorrows.  As  soon  as  the  news  of  these  fail- 
ures reach  ,  every  man  there,  who  has  a  hundred  dol- 
lars owing  to  hira  in  Portland,  will  send  down  to  secure 


148 


MEMOIR  OF 


it  ;  and  the  general  stagnation  of  business  is  such,  that  a 
man  who  is  possessed  of  ten  thousand  dollars  in  real  or 
personal  estate,  may  not  be  able  to  answer  a  demand  of 
five  hundred,  though  it  were  to  save  him  from  ruin.  If 
these  times  continue,  nine-tenths  of  the  people  here  will 
be  scattered  to  the  four  winds.  I  have  scarcely  a  hope 
of  receiving  more  than  enough  to  pay  my  board,  if  I  should 
stay  till  next  spring  ;  and  Mr.  K.  will  want  all  his  salary 
to  support  himself,  as  he  fears  that  all  his  property  is  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  general  destruction.  These  failures  have 
brought  to  light  many  instances  of  dishonesty  among  those 
in  whose  integrity  unbounded  confidence  was  placed. 
And  now,  all  confidence  is  lost,  no  man  will  trust  his 
neighbor,  but  every  one  takes  even  his  brother  '  by  the 
throat,  saying,  Pay  me  that  thou  owest.'  But  I  cannot 
describe,  and  I  doubt  whether  you  can  conceive  of  the 
distress  we  are  in, 

"  And  now  you  will,  perhaps,  be  grieved  at  this  sudden 
blast  of  all  my  fine  prospects,  and  cry,  "Poor  Edward  !" 
But  you  never  had  more  reason  to  rejoice  on  my  behalf,  and 
to  cry,  "  Rich  Edward  !"  than  now ;  for,  blessed  be  God, 
my  portion  does  not  stand  on  such  tottering  foundations,  as 
to  be  shaken  by  these  commotions.  My  dear  parents,  my 
dear  sister,  do  not  feel  one  emotion  of  sorrow  on  my  ac- 
count, but  rather  join  with  me  in  blessing  God,  that  he  keeps 
me  quiet,  resigned,  and  even  happy,  in  the  midst  of  these 
troubles.  I  do  not  pretend  not  to  feel  them,  however. 
All  my  wordly  hopes  are,  apparently,  destroyed  ;  and  many 
of  those  who  are  now  ready  to  be  turned  into  the  streets, 
are  the  dearest  friends  I  have  here — not  to  mention  the 
distress  of  the  poor  who  will,  in  human  probability,  soon 
be  in  a  starving  condition.  In  these  circumstances  it  is 
impossible  not  to  feel.  Still,  if  God  is  pleased  to  afford 
me  the  same  degree  of  support,  which  he  has  hitherto,  I 
shall  be  more  happy  than  ever  I  was.  I  thought  I  knew 
before,  that  this  world  was  treacherous,  and  its  enjoyments 
transitory  ;  but  these  things  have  taught  me  this  truth  so 
much  plainer,  and  weaned  me  90  much  more  from  crea- 
ture dependances,  that  I  desire  to  consider  them  among 
my  chief  mercies.  It  has  long  been  my  prayer,  that  if 
God  had  any  worldly  blessings  in  store  for  me,  he  would 
be  pleased  to  give  me  grace  instead  of  them,  or  change 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


149 


them  into  spiritual  blessings  ;  and  now  he  begins  to  grant 
my  request. — I  am  sorry  for  H.'s  disappointment,  and  my 
own  inability  to  assist  Pa'  out  of  his  difficulties,  which  I 
once  hoped  I  should  be  able  to  do.  But  I  trust  they  will 
be  sanctified,  if  they  are  not  removed.  What  a  blessed 
portion  the  believer  has  in  the  word  of  God,  if  he  has  only 
a  hand  given  him  to  lay  hold  on  it.  But  too  often  our 
hands  are  withered,  and  heed  not  the  divine  command  to 
stretch  them  out. 

"  I  tremble  for  our  poor  country.  I  fear  the  decree  has 
gone  out  against  her.  My  sins  have  helped  to  call  down 
judgments  upon  her,  and  I  desire  to  take  what  falls  to  my 
share,  and  bless  God  that  my  punishment  is  no  heavier, 
and  no  more  proportioned  to  my  deserts.  But  nothing 
seems  too  bad  to  expect  from  present  appearances.  If  we 
escape  civil  war,  it  will  be  well. 

January  5,  1808. 

 "  I  would  not  finish  my  letter  before,  because  I 

could  say  nothing  favorable  respecting  my  health,  which 
was  then  worse  than  ever,  but,  blessed  be  God,  seems  now 
unaccountably  restored.  The  tumult  in  town  has  subsi- 
ded into  a  dead  calm  ;  the  embargo  has  put  a  stop  to  every 
thing  like  business,  and  people  have  now  notiiing  to  do, 
but  attend  to  religion,  and  we  endeavor  to  give  them  meet- 
ings enough,  since  they  have  leisure  to  attend  tliem.  Next 
week  we  purpose  to  keep  a  town  fast  on  account  of  our 
distressed  situation.  I  am  not  without  hopes  that  these 
things  may  be  overruled  to  bring  about  a  more  extensive 
reformation.  The  attention  appears  to  continue,  and  we 
hear  of  new  instances  of  persons  under  concern.  Feel 
no  uneasiness  respecting  me.  Tiie  l^ord  is  my  Shepherd, 
I  shall  not  want.  The  people  are  very  kind,  increasingly 
so.  Some  of  our  young  converts  have  lost  their  all,  and 
liad  their  houses  stripped  ;  and  it  does  my  heart  good  to 
sec  them  cheerful  and  quiet  under  it,  while  others  who 
have  no  God,  have  lost  their  reason,  or,  worried  almost  in- 
cessantly, are  apparently  dying  of  a  broken  heart,  or  utter- 
ing the  most  bitter  and  distressing  complaints.  But  it  is  a 
heart-rending  sight,  to  see  those  who  have  no  other  por- 
tion, stripped  naked  of  all  worldly  good.  Their  gods  are 
taken  away,  and  what  have  they  more  V 
13* 


150 


MEMoiu  or 


"  Jan.  5. — I  find  myself  fi-om  day  to  day,  in  the  situa-' 
tion  of  a  poor  beggar,  with  nothing  to  plead  but  my  ne- 
cessities. In  the  evening  preached  to  a  serious  audience, 
and  was  greatly  encouraged  to  hope  for  a  reformation 
more  general.  Was  much  drawn  out  in  prayer  both  at 
meeting,  and  after  I  came  home. 

"  Jan.  6. — Hope  that  God  is  quickening  me  to  run  the 
way  of  his  commandments  with  a  more  enlarged  heart. 

"  Jan.  10. — Preached  and  baptized  seven  persons,  and 
administered  the  sacrament.  Felt  entirely  exhausted. 
My  constitution  seems  to  be  much  broken,  and  a  little  la- 
bor wears  me  out. 

"  Jan.  13. — This  day  was  devoted  to  fasting  and  pray- 
er by  the  town,  on  account  of  the  present  gloomy  appear- 
ances. 

"  Jan.  14. — Hope  the  strong  workings  of  corruption  I 
have  experienced  will  make  me  more  humble  ;  and  the 
gracious  pardon  I  have  received,  more  thankful. 

"  Jan.  17. — Sab.  Was  alarmed  by  cry  of  fire  during 
family  prayer.  It  did  considerable  damage  ;  but  by  God's 
goodness  was  got  under,  though  the  town  was  in  immi- 
nent danger.  Was  much  assisted  in  seeking  a  divine 
blessing  on  all  our  afflictions.  Had  no  meeting  in  the 
forenoon  ;  in  the  afternoon  preached  with  some  liberty. 

"  Jan.  22. — In  the  evening  preached,  and  was  much 
refreshed  and  strengthened  in  my  own  soul.  Found  the 
Lord's  work  is  going  on.  O,  what  shall  I  render  unto 
the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits. 

"  Jan.  24. — Sab.  Was  favored  with  a  sweet  season  in 
pleading  for  the  divine  presence.  Hoped  that  God  would 
make  this  a  day  of  his  power  and  grace.  Was  greatly 
assisted.  Have  lately  been  favored  with  more  love  to 
God,  and  zeal  for  Christ,  than  I  used  to  have,  and  feel 
more  compassion  for  sinners. 

"  Jan.  25. — Seem  to  have  some  respite  from  the  work- 
ings of  corruption.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting  my  people, 
and  found  many  somewhat  exercised.  In  the  evening 
attended  a  conference  with  inquirers.  Found  some  new 
cases,  and  had  a  pleasant  evening. 

"  Jan.  26. — Felt  eager  desires  to  be  wholly  conformed 


EUWARI)  PAYSON. 


151 


to  Christ,  and  to  be  carried  away  with  the  constraining 
influence  of  his  love. 

"  Feb.  4. — Was  overwhelmed  with  wonder,  shame,  and 
confusion,  to  reflect  on  the  innumerable  mercies  I  had 
received,  and  the  ungrateful  returns  I  had  made.  In  the 
afternoon  preached  at  the  poor-house,  and  found  some  of 
them  much  affected." 

Soon  after  this  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  pleuritic 
affection,  which  rendered  speaking  a  most  painful  and 
difiicult  exercise.  The  pain  continued  for  some  length 
of  time,  attended  by  various  discouraging  symptoms.  He 
did  not  neglect  to  call  in  medical  aid  ;  and  the  prescrip- 
tions of  physicians  were  partially  blessed.  But  the  mo- 
ment he  felt  a  little  relieved,  he  would  resume  his  labors, 
'  go  to  a  conference,  take  more  cold,  and  come  home 
much  worse.'  Repeatedly  during  this  illness,  when  he 
was  necessarily  confined  to  his  room,  he  enters  a  notice 
of  this  kind — "  Spent  almost  the  whole  day  in  conversing 
with  persons,  who  were  exercised  with  spiritual  trials ;" 
and  every  such  day  was  one  of  great  fatigue,  at  the  close 
of  which  '  all  his  alarming  symptoms  would  return  with 
great  violence.'  When  his  conversation  with  inquirers, 
was  not  prolonged  to  weariness,  it  proved  '  refreshing  to 
his  spirits.'  Though  he  found  it  '  trying  to  be  laid  aside 
as  a  broken  vessel,  when  tiie  people  were  willing  to  hear,' 
he  could  still  bless  God  for  sweet  resignation  to  the  divine 
will.  "  Could  not  feel  a  wish  respecting  the  continuance 
of  my  life,  but  had  God  referred  the  matter  to  me,  I  should 
refer  it  back  again  to  him.  My  only  wish  was — if  1  liv- 
ed— to  live  unto  the  Lord  ;  and,  if  I  died,  to  die  unto  the 
Lord." 

In  the  latter  part  of  February  his  physician  found  it 
necessary  to  forbid  his  preaching  for  several  Sabbaths  to 
come,  and  was  in  a  measure  successful  in  enforcing  the 
prohibition,  as  his  patient  does  not  appear  to  have  gone 
out  to  any  religious  meeting  for  more  than  a  fortnight, 
when  he  ventured  to  '  attend  a  conference  with  those  un- 
der concern,  where  he  found  several  new  inquirers,  and 
was  carried  through  beyond  expectation.'  But  the  ex- 
posure was  followed  by  a  dangerous  relapse,  so  that  he 
thought  his  "  health  irrecoverably  gone."    He  expresses 


153 


MEMOIR  OF 


110  "  grief"  on  this  account,  except  as  it  '  disabled  him 
from  attending  meeting  with  those  under  concern.' — But 
the  reader  will  prefer  to  learn  his  feelings  and  circum- 
stances from  his  own  words  : 

"  March  26. — Had  an  exceeding  painful  night,  worse 
than  ever,  but  had  some  satisfaction  in  thinking  of  going 
to  be  with  Christ.  In  the  evening  was  extremely  unwell, 
and  suffered  great  pain. 

"  March  27. — Sab.  In  the  morning  was  very  ill ;  but 
was  carried  to  meeting  in  the  afternoon,  though  I  could 
not  preach.  Was  too  weak  to  have  much  comfort  at 
meeting,  and  came  home  very  low-spirited. 

"  March  28. — Am  pretty  well  convinced  that  my  disease 
is  mortal.  My  mind  partakes  so  much  of  the  weakness 
of  my  body,  tliat  I  can  do  nothing  in  religion,  and  can 
scarcely  refrain  from  peevishness  and  fretting. 

"  March  30. — Had  a  most  sweet  and  refreshing  season 
in  secret  prayer  this  morning.  Felt  more  ardent  love  to 
Christ  than  I  have  for  some  time,  and  was  sweetly  melted 
under  a  sense  of  my  ingratitude.  Was  resigned  to  his 
will  respecting  me,  and  was  willing  to  depart  and  be  with 
him. 

"  April  2. — Conversed  with  some  persons,  who  came 
in  to  see  me  respecting  means  to  be  taken  for  the  sup- 
pression of  proi'anity  and  Sabbath  breaking. 

"  April  3. — Sab.  Was  able  to  attend  meeting  and 
preach  part  of  the  day.  Was  favored  with  some  liberty 
at  the  sacrament,  and  had  some  foretaste  of  heaven,  and 
desire  to  enjoy  it.  Am  much  afraid  the  reformation  is 
going  off.  Was  assisted  to  pray  that  the  work  might  go 
on  ;  and  also  in  praying  for  myself,  so  that  I  hope  the 
Lord  has  been  pleased  to  strengthen  me  on  this  occasion. 

"April  4. — Had  unusual  earnestness  in  prayer  this 
morning  both  for  myself  and  others,  and  was  sweetly 
melted  in  reading  the  divine  word.  Was  depressed  by 
finding  that  the  town  would  do  nothing  respecting  the  ob- 
servation of  the  Sabbath.  Was  enabled  to  pour  out  my 
sorrows  and  complaints  before  God  with  some  degree  of 
freedom. 


EDWAUD  PAYSON. 


153 


"  April  7. — This  day  being  our  annual  fast,  I  endeav- 
ored to  humble  myself  before  God  for  my  personal  sins,  as 
well  as  our  public  transgressions  ;  to  renew  covenant  with 
God,  and  devote  myself  with  new  zeal  to  his  service.  Was 
likewise  assisted  in  pleading  with  God  lor  more  grace,  and 
life,  and'  light,  in  my  own  soul,  and  in  ihe  souls  of  my 
people  ;  and  tliat  the  reformation,  which  hs.s  begun  may 
be  carried  on  gloriously,  and  triumphantly  among  us.  In 
the  morning,  attended  meeting,  and  heard  a  most  excel- 
lent sermon  from  Mr.  K.  In  the  afternoon  preached  with 
Bome  degree  of  assistance. 

"  April  8. — Had  a  very  Bncomfortable  night,  but  was 
sweetly  refreshed  and  strengthened  in  secret  prayer  this 
morning.  It  is  long  since  1  have  found  so  much  of  the 
divine  presence.  Was  much  assisted  in  praying  for  a  re- 
vival of  religion,  and  cannot  but  hope  God  will  yet  bless 
us  still  more  abundantly. 

"  April  9. — Was  employed  most  of  the  day  in  visiting. 
Was  troubled  with  some  who  wished  to  join  the  church 
without  being  qualified. 

"  April  14. — Attended  a  conference  for  those  under 
concern,  and  was  refreshed  to  see  a  goodly  number,  and 
to  trace  the  operations  of  the  divine  Spirit  upon  their 
minds. 

"  April  15. — Was  so  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  vileness, 
that  it  seemed  impossible  Ibr  me  to  come  ;  and  had  such 
a  sight  of  God's  goodness,  that  it  was  impossible  for  me 
not  to  come. 

"  April  19. — O,  how  sweet  and  refreshing  it  is  to  get 
above  the  load  of  sins,  sorrows,  and  corruptions,  which 
oppress  us,  and  taste  a  little  of  communion  with  God. 

"  April  20. — Was  strengthened  with  all  might  in  the 
inner  man,  and  enabled  to  renew  covenant  with  God  with 
great  joy  and  sincerity. 

April 'il. — I  have  long  been  in  a  lethargy,  but  I 
trust  God  is  now  bringing  me  out  of  it.  Find  great  and 
unusual  sweetness  in  the  Bible,  of  late,  for  which  I  have 
long  been  praying  ;  and  likewise  a  deeper  sense  of  the 
importance  of  time, — another  blessing  for  which  I  have 
long  been  seeking.    The  enemy  taking  advantage  of  my 


154 


MEMOIR  OF 


great  weakness,  threw  me  into  a  most  sinful  frame  of  mind  ; 
but  on  application  to  him  who  stills  the  waves,  the  tumult 
of  my  mind  was  stilled,  and  there  was  a  great  calm. 

"  April  22. — Was  favored  with  some  intense  hunger- 
ings  and  thirstings  after  righteousness.  Was  led  to  be- 
lieve from  certain  circumstances,  that  my  case  was  almost 
desperate,  but  felt  most  sweetly  resigned.  My  only  wish 
was  that  God  might  be  glorified,  either  by  my  life  or  death. 

"  April  23. — Was  assisted  in  prayer  through  the  day. 
My  heart  seemed  ready  to  break  with  its  longings  after 
holiness.  Found  unusual  sweetness  in  reading  the  scrip- 
tures. Am  much  encouraged  by  the  Lord's  unusual  good- 
ness to  me,  that  he  is  about  to  carry  on  his  work  still  more 
gloriously  in  this  place. 

"  April  25. — Was  constrained  to  feel  the  truth  of  our 
Lord's  declaration,  "  Without  me  ye  can  do  nothing." 

The  following  paragraphs  from  letters  written  during 
this  spring,  will  not  be  uninteresting. 

"  Portland,  March  28,  1803. 

"  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  The  Sabbath  after  I  wrote  to  Grata,  I  preached,  as  I 
expected  ;  but  it  proved  too  much  for  me,  and  I  have  not 
preached  since,  nor  do  I  expect  to,  till  the  weather  grows 
warmer.  Meanwhile  the  attention  to  religion  seems  to 
be  at  a  stand,  and  whether  it  will  not  wholly  subside,  is 
more  than  we  can  tell.  I  need  not  say,  that  this  is  a  trial, 
but  blessed  be  God,  he  makes  it  lighter,  than  I  could  have 
thought  possible.  It  is  true  I  liave  not  much  sensible  or 
positive  comfort  ;  but  I  ain  kept  perfectly  quiet  and  re- 
signed, and  can  hardly  find  whether  I  have  any  will  or 
not.  Should  my  health  not  be  perfectly  re-established  be- 
fore warm  weather,  I  shall  probably  make  a  journey  home. 
The  people  are  abundantly  kind,  and  suffer  me  to  want 
for  notliing,  which  they  can  supply.  Mr.  K.  is  as  kind 
to  me  as  the  parish,  and  though  he  is  almost  overwhelmed 
with  labor,  yet  he  will  not  suffer  me  to  expose  myself  in 
the  least. 

"  Now  after  enumerating  all  these  mercies,  you  will 
conclude  of  course,  that  I  am  all  wonder  and  gratitude. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


155 


and  that  the  constant  language  of  my  heart  is,  "  What 

shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  1"  That 

I  ought  to  be  so,  I  am  very  sensible  ;  but,  alas,  how  far 

from  it  I  am  in  reality.    I  do  indeed  feel  some  wonder 

how  God  can  be  so  good  ;  such  a  kind  of  wonder  as  we 

feel  when  thinking  of  his  eternity  or  infinite  power,  but, 

as  to  gratitude,  I  hardly  know  by  experience  what  it 

means.    I  once  used  to  think  that  I  did  feel  grateful, 

when  I  had  not  half  the  reason  for  it,  which  I  now  have  ; 

but  I  have  done  thinking  so.    I  have  done  trying  to 

praise  God  for  his  mercies.    All  we  can  do  falls  so  far 

short  of  what  we  owe,  that  it  s<>ems  little  better  than 

mockery,  to  thank  him  in  our  feeble  language,  and  I  can 

only  stand  in  stupid  astonishment  to  see  how  good  he  will 

be  notwithstanding  all  I  can  do  to  prevent  it.    O,  how 

true  it  is,  that  he  will  have  mercy  on  whom  he  will  have 

mercy.    I  can  hardly  help  praying,  sometimes,  that  he 

would  take  away  all  he  has  bestowed,  so  that,  if  I  must  sin, 

I  need  not  sin  against  such  overwhelming  goodness.  But 

it  is  as  natural  for  him  to  be  good  and  kind,  as  it  is  for  us 

to  abuse  his  goodness  ;  and  sooner  shall  our  wicked  hearts 

cease  to  sin,  than  he  cease  to  pardon  and  forgive  sin. 
*       *       *  * 

"  The  embargo,  humanly  speaking,  will  be  detrimen- 
tal to  the  morals  of  the  people  here.  They  have  now 
nothing  to  do,  but  saunter  about,  and  then,  of  course, 
they  get  into  all  manner  of  mischief ;  and  I  fear  they  will 
lose  all  habits  of  industry  and  sobriety.  However,  if  I 
have  any  health,  we  shall  endeavor  to  multiply  meelinga, 
and  take  up  as  much  of  their  time  as  possible,  in  that 
way." 

Portland,  April  18,  1808. 
"  Yes,  my  dearest  mother,  I  did  tiiink  of  my  friends  at 
Rindge,  when  I  apprehended  I  was  about  to  leave  them. 
They  were  almost,  if  not  altogether,  the  only  things  that 
I  felt  the  least  regret  at  the  idea  of  quitting  ;  but  that  re- 
gret was  alleviated,  if  not  wholly  removed,  by  the  conso- 
ling hope,  that  I  should  soon  meet  them  again,  to  be 
separated  no  more.  But,  my  dear  mother,  why  this  anxi- 
ety ?  If  I  wished  for  life,  it  would  distress  me  exceeding- 
ly to  see  you  thus  anxious,  because  I  should  fear  it  would 


156 


MEMOIR  OP 


lead  God  to  remove  from  you  one  for  whom  you  indulge 
so  much  concern.  I  sliall  certainly  live  as  long  as  I  have 
any  thing  to  do  for  the  divine  glory  ;  for  "  we  are  im- 
mortal till  our  work  is  done;"  and  you,  surelv,  could  not 
wish  me  fo  live  after  that  is  accomplished.  Ever  since 
I  have  entertained  a  comfortable  hope  of  my  acceptance 
in  the  Beloved,  it  has  been  my  constant  wish,  that  what  I 
had  to  do  might  be  done  speedily  ;  and  if  God  should  see 
fit  to  grant  this  wish,  will  it  not  be  better  than  if  I  should 
be  a  long  time  in  performing  the  work  allotted,  and  drag 
on  a  wearisome  life  to  no  purpose  ?  It  was  my  great  con- 
solation, while  taken  Oif  from  active  service,  and  laid  aside 
as  a  broken  vessel  and  a  foot  out  of  joint,  that  we  may 
glorify  God  as  much  by  patiently  sulfering,  as  by  actively 
doing  his  will ;  and  1  hope  this  consolation  will  be  yours, 
should  he  see  fit  to  appoint  me  a  life  of  weakness,  pain,  and 
sufiering,  or  remove  me  first  from  this  state  of  trial.  It  is  a 
striking  proof  of  our  depravity,  that  when  God  favors  us 
with  special  mercies,  he  sees  it  necessary  to  send  special 
afflictions,  to  teach  us  our  dependance  and  keep  us  hum- 
ble. Could  I  have  continued  suitably  humble  and  thank- 
ful under  the  mercies  I  have  lately  received  with  respect 
to  my  settlement  here,  and  the  outpourings  of  the  Spirit, 
he  never  would  have  fiustrated,  first,  my  temporal  pros- 
pects, and  afterwards,  by  sickness  as  it  were  cast  me  out 
of  his  vineyard,  as  an  unworthy  and  an  unfaithful  labor- 
er. But  I  not  only  de.served,  but  indispensably  needed, 
all  that  has  befallen  me  ;  rmd  I  desire  to  bless  him  for 
these  afflictions,  by  which,  when  my  roots  began  to  shoot 
into  and  cleave  to  the  earth,  he  plucked  them  up  before 
they  were  loo  deeply  and  firmly  fixed,  and  thus  experi- 
mentally taught  me  not  to  look  for,  or  expect  any  happi- 
ness bevond  that  of  crvinghim  here,  but  to  wait  for  my 
reward  in  another  Vv'orld  ;  a  lesson  of  infinite  importance, 
and  which  I  greatly  needed.  But  it  is  a  lesson  so  hard 
for  us,  yr  at  least  for  me,  to  learn,  that  I  well  foresee,  if  I 
am  continued  hero  any  length  of  time,  it  will  be  necessa- 
ry for  God  to  impress  it  upon  my  mind  again  and  again 
by  repeated  and  multiplied  disappointments.  My  dispo- 
sition is  naturally  so  ardent,  that  I  can  enjoy  nothing  with 
moderation,  so  that  I  must  either  be  totally  indifferent  to 
Worthy  objects,  or  else  love  them  to  such  a  degree,  as  to 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


157 


render  them  idols  ;  and  thBo,  of  course,  God  must  and 
will  either  embitter  or  remove  them.  It  is  evident,  there- 
fore, that  I  must  not  expect  worldly  happiness  ;  for  perlcct 
indifference  to  any  object,  or  too  much  love  for  it,  are 
equally  incompatible  with  happiness,  and  these  are  the 
only  two  states  of  which  I  am  capable.  For  this  reason 
I  fear  ever  to  enter  the  marriage  state,  for  1  should  most 
certainly  love  a  wife  too  much,  or  too  little.  I  know  not, 
however,  whether  I  ought  to  regret  this  trait  in  my  char- 
acter, since,  by  cutting  me  off  from  other  sources,  it  does, 
as  it  were,  necessarily  drive  me  to  One  whom  I  cannot 
love  or  serve  too  mu<  h,  and  compel  me  to  place  all  my 
hopes  in  a  future  state. 

Since  you  complain  that  I  did  not  tell  you  what  my 
sickness  has  been,  I  will  now  inform  you,  lest  you  should 
suppose  it  worse  than  it  was.  It  was  an  inflammation  of 
the  lungs  and  adjoining  parts,  attended  for  several  weeks 
with  extreme  debility,  sharp  pain,  restlessness,  loss  of  ap- 
petite, difficulty  of  breathing,  and  an  inability  to  converse 
for  any  time  together.  I  should,  I  believe,  have  easily 
got  over  it,  but  I  continued  my  labors  much  too  long, 
hoping  I  s'lould  be  able  to  drag  along  till  warm  weather, 
which,  I  trusted,  would  restore  me.  But  after  sacrament, 
when,  by  reason  of  the  length  of  the  services,  I  was  so  ex- 
hausted that  I  could  scarcely  sit  in  my  chair,  I  was  obli- 
ged to  go  out  in  a  cold  raw  evening,  to  converse  and  pray 
with  a  dying  sailor,  who  had  just  found  out  that  he  had  a 
soul  to  save.  The  next  day  was  a  violent  storm,  in  which 
I  imprudently  went  out,  to  visit  some  sick  persons  ;  and 
the  day  following  was  seized  with  a  .sharp  pleuritic  pain 
in  my  side.  However,  as  it  was  lecture  night,  I  was  obli- 
ged to  preach,  which  1  got  through  with  much  pain  and 
some  difficulty,  but  was  then  con.strained  to  give  up.  Still 
I  believe  my  confinement  would  have  been  much  shorter, 
had  not  persons  continued  to  come  and  converse  with  me, 
who  were  under  concern.  1  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  send  them  away,  and  the  temporary  exhilaration  of 
spirits,  which  seeing  them  gave  me,  prevented  me  from 
finding  out  at  first  how  much  talking  injured  me,  so 
that  for  a  long  time  I  lost  much  faster  than  I  gained. 
But  the  sun  seems  to  be  a  physician  superior  to  all  the 


14 


158 


MEMOIR  OF 


doctors,  and  his  warm  beams,  under  God,  have  in  a  good 
measure  restored  me. 

'  Thus  have  I  spent  my  health,  an  odious  trick. 
In  making  known  how  oft  I  have  been  sick.' 

But  if  your  patience  is  wearied,  you  must  ascribe  it  to 
your  own  request,  without  which  I  should  not  have  said  a 
syllable  on  the  subject." 

The  "  inflammation,"  he  observes  in  another  letter, 
"  was  brought  on,  by  speaking  in  hot  rooms,  and  then  go- 
ing out  into  the  cold  evening  air."  His  illness  proved  on 
the  whole  a  serious  one,  and  he  was  obliged  not  only  to 
suspend  preaching,  but  to  leave  the  scene  of  his  labors, 
before  he  could  obtain  relief  On  the  27th  of  April,  he 
set  out  for  his  father's  house,  to  try  the  effect  of  a  journey 
and  a  country  residence  on  his  health.  '  In  crossing  a 
stream,  whose  bridge  had  been  cairied  away,  he  was 
thrown  from  his  horse,  and  thoroughly  wet,  so  that  he  could 
proceed  no  further.'  The  next  day,  '  after  riding  about 
ten  miles,  he  was  seized  with  the  symptoms  of  a  violent 
fever,  and  obliged  to  stop,  and  take  his  bed.'  The  third 
day  he  pursued  his  journey  moderately,  but  '  in  much  pain 
and  weakness,  fearing  that  his  lungs  had  been  much  in- 
jured by  his  late  accident.  Before  night  of  the  fourth  day, 
he  '  was  extremely  exhausted.'  "  Find  that  a  fever  comes 
on  at  night,  and  goes  off  with  sweats  in  the  morning." 
The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  which  he  spent  in  Milford, 
'  weak  in  body  and  mind.  After  meeting,  which  he  at- 
tended both  parts  of  the  day,  had  some  conversation  with 
a  universalist,  but  to  little  purpose.'  "  May  2.  Reached 
home,  and  was  most  kindly  received.  After  the  flow  of 
spirits,  occasioned  by  seeing  friends,  was  over,  found  my- 
self much  exhausted  with  my  journey." 

For  several  days  after  his  arrival  he  grew  worse,  till  he 
*  lost  all  strength  and  appetite,'  and  was  taken  with  a 
'  hectic  fever,'  as  was  then  supposed,  "  attended  with  night 
sweats  and  some  cough.  He  gave  up  all  hope  of  recover- 
ing, and  felt  willing  to  die  ;  had  no  murrfturing  thought.'' 


EDWABD  PAYSON. 


159 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Resumes  his  pastoral  labors — letters — review  of  the  year. 

Mr.  Payson's  absence  from  his  people  was  prolonged 
to  a  period  of  more  than  two  months.  During  this  time, 
he  underwent  much  bodily  suffering  ;  but  his  resignation, 
and  his  demeanor  generally,  were  such  as  become  a  man 
professing  godliness.  He  obtained  no  relief,  till  near  the 
close  of  this  period,  when  he  repaired  to  Boston  for  medi- 
cal advice,  by  which  he  was  encouraged  to  hope  that  he 
might  again  engage  in  preaching  the  Gospel.  His  church 
observed  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  on  his  account  during 
his  absence.  He  set  out  on  his  return  to  them,  July  4th, 
not  without  "  gloomy  melancholy  fears.  The  work  ap- 
peared great,  the  obstacles  insurmountable,  and  his  strength 
nothing."  Most  of  the  information,  which  could  be  col- 
lected respecting  his  circumstances  for  several  succeeding 
m<mths,  is  contained  in  letters,  that  were  written  to  his 
parents  and  sister, 

"  Portland,  Wednesday  Evening,  July  6,  1808. 
My  dearest  Parents, 

"  When  you  see  where  and  when  this  letter  is  dated, 
you  will,  I  fear,  be  ready  to  exclaim,  "  Imprudent  boy  ! 
why  will  he  not  learn  wisdom  by  experience  V  But  when 
you  hear  that  no  ill  consequences  have  resulted  from  my 
haste,  you  will,  I  hope,  pardon  me.  The  truth  is,  when 
I  got  beyond  the  reach  of  the  attraction  of  Rindge,  which 
was  not  very  soon,  Portland  began  to  draw  with  such  ir- 
resistible force,  that  I  found  there  would  be  no  peace  for 
me,  till  I  reached  it.  So,  maugre  my  lame  horse,  who 
grew  lamer  and  lamer  every  hour,  I  pressed  on,  and  arri- 
ved here  about  six,  this  afternoon.  How  it  will  be  to- 
morrow, I  cannot  tell ;  but,  at  present,  1  am  perfectly 
well,  and  never  was  less  fatigued  by  a  journey  in  my  life. 
Mr,  K.  is  out  of  town,  attending  an  association,  and  my 


IGO 


MEMOIR  OF 


host  with  his  wife  are  absent  on  a  visit,  so  as  yet  I  have 
seen  nobody. 

Thursday  Morn. 
"  The  crowd  of  anxious  and  interesting  thoughts  which 
engaged  iny  mind  on  my  return  would  not  sulFer  me  to 
rest  mucii  last  night,  and  of  course  I  feel  rather  languid 
this  morning.  Still,  however,  I  never  felt  less  inconveni- 
ence from  such  a  journey.  Mr.  K.  has  just  left  me.  He 
gives  a  discouraging  account  of  the  situation  of  religion. 
Several,  whose  convictions  appeared  to  be  of  the  right 
kind,  have  apparently  lost  them,  and  a  general  coldness 
seems  to  be  prevailing. 

Thursday  Night. 
"  Perhaps  you  saw  lately  an  account  of  a  man  who  was 
tried  here  for  murder.  He  was  found  guilty,  and  is  now 
in  the  condemned  hole.  I  went  this  alternoon  to  visit 
him,  and  was  greatly  shocked  and  afflicted  by  a  view  of  the 
bolts,  chains,  and  other  guards  against  escape.  The  en- 
trance to  his  dungeon  was  by  a  small  square  hole,  through 
which  I  could  but  just  crawl  by  stooping  double,  and  it 
was  secured  by  a  very  thick  door  of  solid  iron.  It  was, 
however,  sufficiently  light,  sweet,  and  free  from  dampness. 
Tiie  criminal  is  a  young,  stout,  well-looking  man,  as  far 
removed  as  possible  from  the  idea  one  is  ready  to  form  of 
a  murderer.  He  said  he  felt  guilty  and  self-condemned 
before  God,  and  felt  the  need  of  a  Saviour,  and  of  a  new 
heart,  but  knew  not  how  to  procure  either  of  them.  But 
he  said  this  in  a  cold  unfeeling  way.  I  shall  see  him 
again  soon,  for  my  own  sake,  as  well  as  hi.s.  It  is  well 
calculated  to  make  one  admire  and  adore  distinguishing 
grace,  which  has  kept  us  from  the  same  crimes,  to  see  a 
man  in  the  flower  of  life,  shut  up  in  a  small  dungeon,  nev- 
er to  go  out  till  he  goes  to  a  violent  and  ignominious  death. 
— In  the  evening  I  went  to  our  meeting  for  those  under 
concern.  This  is  still  kept  up,  though  very  few  attend 
and  they  seem  little  engaged. 

Friday. 

"  I  have  been  trying  the  effect  of  sea-bathing.  It  was 
not  a  very  favorable  time,  but  I  feel  better  for  it,  and  shall 
repeat  it  daily.  I  have  spent  some  time  in  going  round 
among  the  people.    They  appear  glad  to  see  me  ;  but, 


EUWAUn  PAYSDN 


161 


alas,  I  fear  there  are  no  hopes  of  any  further  reformation, 
at  present.  Many,  whom  I  left  under  deep  concern,  iiave 
lost  all  their  impressions  ;  others  are  cold  ;  Christians 
seem  to  be  discouraged.  Though  I  expected  this,  it  is 
almost  too  much  for  me  to  bear.  I  am  dispirited  and  de- 
jected ;  my  very  soul  sickens  and  shrinks  back  from  what 
is  before  me.  Weakened  by  sickness,  my  mind  seems  to 
have  lost,  at  once,  all  laith  and  fortitude.  I  have  no  as- 
sistance in  writing.  My  ideas  are  ail  confused.  I  seem 
to  have  no  power  to  get  hold  of  people's  consciences,  but 
as  somebody  expresses  it,  "  my  intellects  have  got  mit- 
tens on." 

Sunday  Evening. 
"  I  preached  to-day,  and  feltpretty  much  as  I  expected. 
No  life — people  stupid.  I  shall  get  hardened  to  these 
things  soon  ;  but  at  present,  they  are  distressing  indeed. 
But  though  I  am  perplexed,  I  am  not  utterly  in  despair  ; 
though  cast  down,  1  am  not  destroyed.  Somehow  or  oth- 
er I  shall  be  carried  through.  As  to  my  health,  I  have 
little  leisure  to  think  of  it  amidst  the  more  interesting 
things  which  oppress  me.  I  believe,  however,  I  shall  suf 
fer  but  little  inconvenience  from  speaking  to-day." 

"  Portland,  July  16,  1808. 

''  Mv  DEAR  Sister, 

"  I  know  not  why  it  was,  but  I  never  felt  more  pain  at 
leaving  home,  since  I  first  began  to  venture  abroad,  than 
when  I  left  R-indge  (or  Portland.  I  rode  in  a  very  mel- 
ancholy mood  ail  day,  and  seldom  have  I  felt  more  un- 
pleasantly. This,  you  will  say,  was  but  an  ungrateful  re- 
turn to  my  heavenly  Father,  for  his  goodness  ;  but  though 
I  felt  sensible  that  it  was,  I  could  not  alter  the  course  of 
my  feelings.  My  mind  had  become  so  tender  by  being 
accustomed  to  kindness  and  attention,  that  it  seemed  to 
shrink  from  every  thing  like  coldness  ;  and  it  was  in  vain 
to  expect  that  kindness  from  others,  which  I  experienced 
from  parental  and  sisterly  affection  at  home.  The  diffi- 
culties too,  of  the  ministry,  were  all  before  me.  Like  Pe- 
ter, I  looked  only  at  the  waves  and  billows,  forgetting  the 
Almighty  arm  that  was  extended  for  my  support  ;  and, 
consequently,  like  iiim,  I  sunk  in  the  depths  of  despond- 
14* 


MKMDIK  or 


ency.  Nor  is  the  prospect,  now  I  am  here,  calculated  to 
cheer  me.  Iniquities  abound,  the  love  of  many  is  waxeu 
cold  ;  the  enemy  seems  coming  in  as  a  flood  ;  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  no  longer  lifts  up  a  standard  against  him  ;  and 
I,  what  can  I  do  ?  What  is  worst  of  all,  is,  that  many 
are  ready  to  think,  that,  because  I  am  returned,  religion 
will  revive.  This  sickens  and  discourages  my  very  soul  j 
for  I  know,  assuredly,  that,  while  this  is  the  case,  my  labors 
will  be  utterly  unsuccessful.  This  shows  too,  tliat  they 
have  not  learnt,  by  my  sickness,  what  God  meant  tliej 
should  learn,  and  will  bring  a  blast  upon  me  and  ray  ex- 
ertions. Still,  however,  blessed  be  God,  he  does  not  suf- 
fer me  utterly  to  despair.  That  text,  "  Fear  tliou  not,  for 
I  am  with  thee  ;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am  thy  God  :  I 
will  strengthen  thee,  yea,  I  will  help  thee  ;  yea,  I  will 
uphold  thee  with  the  right  hand  of  my  righteousness" — 
never  fails  to  bring  relief,  even  in  the  darkest  hours.  In 
addition  to  this,  I  find  some  relief  in  conversing  with 
those  who  were  taken  into  the  church  before  I  left  them, 
most  of  whom  seem  to  be  humble,  growing  Christians  ; 
so  that  I  have  still  abundant  reason  to  be  thankful  ;  but, 
alas,  I  cannot.  You,  my  sister,  never  will  know  what  it 
is  to  attempt  to  go  through  the  duties  of  the  ministry  with- 
out God.  I  stagger  along  under  the  burden,  like  those 
poor  travellers,  who  were  cast  away,  in  the  de  erts  of  Ara- 
bia, ready  every  step  to  sink  under  it ;  but  when  it  seems 
as  if  I  could  not  take  another  step,  but  must  lie  down  and 
die,  some  spring  opens  to  my  view,  and  T  get  strength  and 
courage  to  drag  along  a  liille  further. — But  enough  of  this 
melancholy  strain. 

My  health  continues  to  improve  rapidly  and  I  am  al- 
most perfectly  well.  Mr.  R.  preaches  here  next  Sabbath, 
on  an  exchange  with  Mr.  K.,  who  goes  to  administer  the 
.sacrament  at  Gorham.  He  is  much  liked  ;  they  are,  I 
believe,  unanimous,  or  nearly  so,  in  his  favor,  and  would 
settle  him,  off  hand,  had  they  not  written  to  a  Mr.  B.  pre- 
vious to  Mr.  R.'s  coming.  They  think  they  are  bound 
in  honor  to  hear  Mr.  B.,  and  Mr.  R.  feels  a  little  delicate 
about  staying,  under  these  circumstances. 

Juhj  21. 

"  I  mentioned,  I  believe,  in  my  last  letter,  that  there 
was  a  criminal  here,  under  sentence  of  death,  for  murder. 


EnWAlU)  PAYSON. 


163 


He  was  executed  f.o-day,  and  I  have  strong  hopes  he  died 
a  sincere  penitent.  But  the  circumstances  are  too  long 
for  a  letter. 

"  My  health  continues  to  improve  with  respect  to  the 
difficulties  in  my  breast ;  but  I  am  so  oppressed  with  mel- 
ancholy that  lii'e  is  a  burthen.  I  was  to  have  preached  a 
sermon  at  the  execution  I  have  just  mentioned  ;  and 
though  I  did  not  feel  able  to  write,  I  endeavored  to  force 
myself  to  it.  But  a  melancholy  mind  will  not  be  forced, 
and  I  found,  that,  if  I  did  not  desist,  I  should  be  distrac- 
ted. On  tiie  other  baud,  the  idea  that  such  an  opportu- 
nity of  doing  good  should  be  lost,  drove  me  back  to  fresh 
endeavors.  The  misery  I  have  endured  for  tliree  days  is 
inconceivable,  and  has  made  me  quite  sick.  It  seemed 
as  if  1  would  willingly  have  been  hanged  in  his  place, 
rather  than  teel  as  I  did.  I  can  more  easily  believe  that 
all  other  things  work  together  for  good,  than  tliat  melan- 
choly does.  It  appears  to  be  full  of  evil,  and  to  be  pro- 
ductive of  no  manner  of  good  eitiier  to  myself  or  others. 
But  it  shall  not  cause  you  any  more  uneasiness  at  present, 
for  I  will  bid  you  adieu,  till  I  am  in  better  humor.  Re- 
member me  to  all  friends ;  ask  my  father  and  mother  to 
write  to,  and  pray  for  me.  I  would  give  up  preaciiing,  if 
I  dared  ;  but  "  woe  is  me,  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel." 
Farewell — and  may  you  never  know  by  experience,  the 
present  feelings  of 

Your  aftectionate,  though  unhappy  brother." 

"  Portland,  Au--  -^t  3, 1808. 

"  My  dearest  Parents, 

"  I  had  almost  resolved  not  to  write  again,  till  I  receiv- 
ed letters  from  home,  which  I  have  been  looking  for  with 
much  impatience  and  some  hard  thoughts  ;  but  lest  you 
should  impute  my  silence  to  a  wrong  cause,  I  will  put  an 
end  to  it  for  the  present,  and  tell  you  that  I  am  gradually 
growing  better,  and  am,  in  a  manner,  perfectly  well.  I 
preach  in  all  weathers,  and  at  all  hours,  without  mucli,  if 
any,  inconvenience  ;  and  still  gain  strength  notwithstand- 
ing, and  the  people  say  that  I  speak  now  as  loud  and 
strong  as  ever,  thougli  I  did  not  when  I  lirst  came  back. 
I  have  also  thrown  otf  my  melancholy  fita  and  ain  cheerful 


164 


MEMOIR  OF 


as  ever.  The  state  of  religion,  however,  is  not  such  as  1 
could  wish. 

"  I  preached,  last  Sabbath,  on  man's  depravity,  and  at- 
tempted shew,  that,  by  nature,  man  was,  in  stupidity  and 
insensibility,  a  block  ;  in  sensuality  and  sottishness,  a 
beast  ,  and  in  pride,  malice,  cruelty,  and  treachery,  a 
devil.  This  set  the  whole  town  in  an  uproir,  and  never 
was  such  a  racket  made  about  any  poor  sermon  ;  it  is  per- 
fectly inconceivable  to  any  who  iiave  not  seen  it.  But  I 
cannot  help  hoping,  that,  amidst  all  this  smoke,  there  may 
be  some  latent  sparks,  which  will  burst  out  into  a  blaze. 
We  had  a  lecture,  last  evening,  in  tiie  meeting  house, 
which  was  much  more  crowded  than  any  we  ever  had  be- 
fore. However  our  fears  are,  as  yet,  much  greater  than 
our  hopes. 

"  Mr.  K.  is  like  to  lose  his  youngest  child,  and  his  old- 
est is  quite  sick.  He  is  also  .slandered  and  abused  beyond 
all  measure.  Yet  he  bears  all  these  trials  in  a  manner 
which  is  surprising.  He  is  less  gay,  but  scarcely  less 
cheerful,  than  usual ;  nor  would  any  one  suspect  from  his 
appearance,  that  be  was  suft'ering  in  body,  Iriends,  or  es- 
tate. The  embargo  causes  as  much  uneasiness,  though 
not  more  than  was  to  be  expected.  But  I  tremble  to  think 
of  next  winter  :  for  the  poor  will  suffer  incalculably  both 
for  want  of  provisions  and  fuel." 

The  sermon  alluded  to  in  this  letter,  is  probably  one, 
which  he  preached  from  John  VIII.  44,  and  which  is  still 
remembered  li  ih  lively  impression  by  some  of  the  liearers, 
whose  account  of  its  eifects  amply  sustains  his  own  de- 
scription. In  the  course  of  the  following  week,  there 
might  be  heard  one  man  liailing  another  in  the  street,  as 
"  brother-devil !"  This  coming  to  Mr.  Payson's  ears,  so 
far  from  being  regarded  as  a  circumstance  of  discourage- 
ment, inspired  him  with  the  hope,  that  good  would  ulti- 
mately result  from  it — a  hope,  which  the  event  justified  ; 
for  some  of  these  "  brave  spirits"  were  afterwards  humbled 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  His  description  of  the  "natural 
man"  is  given  in  terms,  which  he  repeatedly  applies  to 
himself  in  his  private  journal  ;  and  their  application  to  the 
species  was  made  in  the  fulness  of  an  honest  heart.  They 
show,  too,  that  he  was  not  indebted  to  flattery  tor  any  part 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


165 


of  his  popularity.  Still,  such  a  representation  of  the  sub- 
ject is  of  questionable  propriety,  and  from  another  preach- 
er might  have  been  productive  of  none  but  evil  consequen- 
ces. And  yet,  some  young,  rash,  ignorant  ministers  will 
be  more  emulous  to  copy  tiiis,  than  any  other  trait  in  his 
preaching.  After  letting  off  a  volley  of  harsh,  impertin- 
ent, bitter  and  extravagant  epithets,  with  a  heart  as  cal- 
lous as  that  which  they  describe,  they  will  flatter  them- 
selves, that  they  have  been  signally  faithful,  and  are  "just 
like  Dr.  Payson  !"  But  they  mistake  his  character,  as 
well  as  their  own.  His  severest  expressions  were  uttered 
with  the  moving  tenderness  of  a  heart  that  yearned  over 
the  guilt  and  impending  misery  of  his  fellow-men.  The 
wounds  heinflicted  were  "  the  wounds  of  a  friend."  Those, 
on  whom  his  strokes  fell  with  deadliest  effect,  could  not 
but  feel,  that  benevolence  aimed  the  blow. 

"  August  10. 

"  I  have  just  received  your  letter,  my  dear  mother,  and 
will  now  put  an  end  to  mine,  which  a  press  of  duty  had 
made  me  lay  by.  Mr.  K.'s  cliild  is  dead,  and  that  has 
thrown  a  great  deal  of  business  upon  my  hands.  He  is 
going  a  journey  soon,  and  I  must  finish  visiting  the  peo- 
ple before  he  goes,  as  I  shall  have  no  time  afterwards. 
Your  letter  afforded  me  some  comfort  at  a  time  when  I 
needed  it.  We  have  lost  all  hopes  of  any  more  attention, 
at  present,  and  I  am  in  some  measure  reconciled  to  it,  for 
if  a  revival  should  take  place  immediately  after  my  return, 
people  would  not  give  God  the  glory.  The  opposition 
grows  more  and  more  bitter ;  every  mouth  seems  to  be 
opened  to  revile,  and  Christians,  instead  of  supporting  me, 
seem  to  think  that  it  will  not  do  to  tell  the  whole  truth, 
lest  the  world  should  be  too  much  offended.  I  was  prone 
to  trust  to  Ciiristians,  and  think,  tliat,  tiiough  all  sliould 
be  offended,  yet  they  would  not  ,  but  I  find  it  will  not  do 
to  put  trust  in  man,  however  good  he  may  be.  Even 
Christians  had  much  rather  hear  of  their  privileges,  their 
good  estate,  and  the  happiness  prepared  for  them,  than  be 
told  plainly  how  defective  they  are,  and  urged  to  greater 
diligence,  zeal,  and  fidelity.  I  think  sometimes,  that  all 
the  service  I  shall  do  the  church  will  be  to  change  them 
from  legal,  to  evangelical  hypocrites  ;  for  they  have  now 


166 


MEMOm  OF 


got  their  cue,  and  instead  of  saying,  that- they  do  all  they 
can,  and  hope  Christ  will  do  the  rest,  they  are  all  com- 
plaining, like  Mrs.  ********#^  what  dreadful  vile  crea- 
tures they  are,  and  smile  all  the  time. 

"  However,  there  are  some  who  make  these  complaints 
in  a  different  manner,  and  who  appear  really  to  groan  un- 
der a  body  of  sin  and  death.  One  person  who  was  es- 
teemed by  Mr.  K.  and  the  whole  church,  and  by  myself  too, 
not  only  a  Christian,  but  a  very  eminent  one,  of  whose 
religion  I  had  not  the  least  doubts,  and  who  appeared  to 
be  very  humble  and  broken  hearted,  and,  in  short,  to  be 
every  thing  we  could  wish,  has  discovered  that  she  was 
building  on  the  sand.  She  had  been  a  professor  some 
time,  but  had  never  heard  of,  or  suspected  the  difference 
between  holy  and  selfish  love,  and  is  now  fully  convinced 
that  all  her  love  was  of  the  latter  kind.  As  she  possesses 
good  sense  and  information,  the  accounts  she  gives  of  her 
experiences,  while  destitute  of  religion,  are  very  profitable, 
and  open  new  ways  in  which  persons  may  be  deceived, 
of  which  I  had  scarcely  any  conception. 

"  1  did  not  intend  to  say  a  word  of  myself,  but  I  cannot 
write  or  think  on  any  thing  else.  I  am  crushed  down  not 
only  into  the  dust,  but  below  the  dust,  so  that  it  seems,  at 
times,  as  if  I  must  perish,  I  am  obliged  to  go  into  the 
pulpit  to  pray  and  preach  with  my  mind  full  of  horrid 
thoughts,  so  that  I  totally  forget  what  I  was  going  to  say, 
and  am  forced  to  stop  short.  From  this  one  sample,  of 
which,  however,  you  cannot  know  the  bitterness,  unless 
you  had  been  forced  to  preach  in  that  situation,  you  may 
judge  of  the  rest.  Yet  I  know  it  is  all  for  the  best.  It 
teaches  me,  I  hope,  to  give  the  glory  more  to  God,  when 
I  feel  better.  Now  it  seems  as  strange,  if  a  good  thought 
or  desire  rises  for  a  moment  in  my  mind,  as  it  would  be 
to  find  a  diamond  upon  a  dunghill,  or  to  see  a  gleam  of 
sunshine  in  a  dark  night.  I  know  it  cannot  be  the  pro- 
duct of  my  heart,  but  must  come  from  some  other  source  ; 
and  to  that  source  I  wish  to  refer  it." 

"  Portland,  Sept.  8,  1808. 

"  My  dearest  Parents, 

"  Last  Sabbath  I  preached  all  day,  administered  the 


EnWARD  VAYSON. 


167 


sacrament,  catechized  the  children,  and  spent  the  even- 
ing in  conversation,  and  yet  instead  of  being  laid  up,  as  I 
feared,  I  am  full  as  well,  if  not  better,  than  before.  Things 
still  remain  pretty  much  as  they  were.  A  great  many 
seem  to  be  somewhat  alarmed,  but  I  see  none  of  those 
deep  convictions  of  sin  which  I  used  to  see  ;  it  is  only  the 
mere  workings  of  natural  fear.  Two  persons,  however, 
who  had  entirely  lost  their  convictions,  have  had  them  re- 
turn more  strongly  than  ever,  so  that  we  are  not  entirely 
deserted.  People  seem  to  be  a  little  better  reconciled  to 
the  truth,  and  several,  who  threatened  to  leave  the  parish, 
still  remain  quiet  ;  but  whether  their  quietness  proceeds 
from  mere  stupidity  or  from  a  conviction  of  the  truth,  I 
know  not.  The  church  seem  to  feel  the  general  dead- 
ness,  and  as  to  myself  I  seem  palsied  to  all  good  ;  though 
pride,  or  selfishnes,  or  habit  still  keeps  me  in  motion.  I 
have  had  far  more  distressing  experience  of  the  dreadful 
depravity  of- my  nature,  since  I  left  home,  than  ever  be- 
fore. O,  the  heights  and  depths,  the  lengths  and  breadths 
of  wickedness  in  the  depraved  heart  !  If  complaining  to 
man  was  of  service,  what  a  torrent  of  complaint  could  I 
pour  out  ;  but  it  will  not  avail. 

Sept.  14. 

"  Mr.  C,  a  young  gentleman  of  independent  fortune,  is 
BOW  preaching  at  the  old  parish.  He  has  been  studying 
divinity  in  Scotland,  and  preaches  the  doctrines  of  the 
gospel,  in  a  clear,  distinguishing  manner.  As  his  senti- 
ments were  known  before  he  came,  every  thing  was  said, 
to  take  off  the  effect  of  his  preaching,  which  could  be  said. 
They  cannot,  however,  accuse  him  of  interested  motives 
in  preaching,  and  as  he  is  quite  a  gentleman  in  his  man- 
ners, I  hope  he  will  lessen  the  prejudices  of  some  of  his 
fashionable  hearers  against  the  gospel. 

"  We  have  had  three  additions  to  the  church,  since  my 
return,  of  persons  who  gave  very  satisfactory  evidence, 
and  there  are  a  few  other  gleanings  of  our  late  harvest, 
that  are  not  yet  gathered  in ;  but,  otherwise,  we  are  in  a 
most  stupid  state.  If  I  now  and  then  feel  a  spark  of  life, 
the  moment  I  go  abroad  among  my  people,  it  goes  out, 
and  I  always  come  home  quite  discouraged.  I  cannot 
feel  thankful  as  I  ought  for  health  restored. 


168 


MEMOIR  OF 


Oct.  10. 

"  Mr.  K.  comes  back,  this  week,  and  my  hard  duty  is 
over  without  any  ill  consequences.  I  have  had  some  re- 
lief, of  late,  fro.n  Mr.  C.'s  being  here  at  tne  old  parish, 
and  preaching  such  doctrine  as  I  do." 

In  the  following  letter  to  his  mother  is  a  most  vivid 
sketch  of  the  workings  of  his  mind  in  his  hours  of  dis- 
couragement, as  well  as  of  those  considerations  by  which 
he  was  assisted  to  rise  above  it.  It  will  be  read  with 
thrilling  interest. 

"  Portland,  Oct.  25,  1808. 

"  My  dearest  Mother, — I  have  just  received  your  let- 
ter of  the  19th,  and,  like  all  your  letters,  it  came  just  in 
the  right  time,  when  I  needed  it  most,  when  I  was  sink- 
ing, fainting  under  discouragements  and  difficulties.  I 
feel  the  force  of  all  you  say.  I  know  I  have  every  reason 
in  the  world  to  feel  grateful ;  but  this  knowledge  only 
renders  me  more  unhappy,  that  I  cannot  feel  it.  Grati- 
tude is  a  plant  that  my  heart  will  never  produce,  only 
when  heaven  is  pleased  to  place  it  there,  and  whether  I 
shall  ever  exercise  one  emotion  of  it  again,  seems  doubtful. 

God  is  showing  me  what  is  in  my  heart  in  a  ten-fold 
clearer  light  than  ever  before,  and  though  I  know  he 
does  it  to  humble  and  prove  me,  that  he  may  do  me  good 
in  the  latter  end,  yet,  while  he  permits,  my  mind  will  be 
like  the  troubled  sea,  which  cannot  rest,  whose  waters 
cast  up  mire  and  dirt ;  and  I  can  no  more  still  it  than  I 
can  still  the  elements.  I  know  how  I  ought  to  feel,  and 
I  know  how  wrong  it  is  to  feel  as  I  do  ;  but  that  does  not 
help  rne  to  feel  otherwise.  I  know  that  I  am  every  thing 
that  is  bad  summed  up  in  one,  and  that  I  deserve  ten 
thousand  times  over  the  hottest  place  in  hell ;  but  till 
God  shall  be  pleased  to  melt  my  heart  by  the  returning 
beams  of  his  love,  this  sight  of  sin  only  hardens  my  heart, 
and  sinks  it  down  in  sullen  indolence  and  despair.  I 
well  remember  those  delightful  seasons  you  mention  ; 
but  I  remember  them  as  Satan  does  the  happiness  of 
heaven,  which  he  has  lost.  I  cannot  help  being  sorry 
that  I  ever  recovered,  or  that  I  ever  was  born.    I  cannot 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


169 


help  wishing  for  annihilation,  though  I  see  as  clear  as 
the  light  of  (lay,  how  devilish,  and  cowardly,  and  base, 
and  ungrateful  such  a  temper  is.  I  loathe  and  de- 
test myself  for  having  such  a  teinper,  and  know  that 
my  inability  to  restrain  it,  instead  of  being  any  excuse, 
only  renders  me  utterly  inexcusable.  I  know,  too, 
that  all  this  is  necessary  for  my  good.  I  know  Christ 
is  near  me,  though  I  cannot  perceive  him  ;  and  that,  in 
his  own  time,  which  will  be  the  best  time,  he  will  pluck 
me  out  of  this  terrible  deep  pit,  and  set  my  feet  on  a  rock. 
But  this  knowledge  does  not  prevent  my  being  tossed 
hither  and  thither,  before  the  blast  of  temptation,  like  a 
leaf  before  a  whirlwind.  Meanwhile  I  have  nowhere  to 
look  for  comfort,  either  in  heaven  or  earth.  My  prayer 
seems  to  be  shut  out,  though  in  reality  I  know  it  is  not. 
My  people  are  raving  about  my  hard  doctrine  ;  my  friends 
seem  to  stand  aloof,  my  health  begins  to  decline,  religion 
decaying,  and  all  hell  broke  loose  within  me.  While 
this  is  the  case,  what  can  reasoning  or  arguments  avail  ? 
Who  but  he  who  caused  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness, 
can  bring  light  and  order  out  of  the  darkness  and  chaos 
of  my  soul  ? 

Your  hopes  with  respect  to  Mr.  C.  are  frustrated.  Not- 
withstanding he  combined  almost  every  advantage,  such 
as  being  independent  in  property,  eloquent,  polished  in 
his  manners,  &c.  &c.  he  had  only  thirty  for,  to  ninety  a- 
gainst  him.  Mr.  R.  has  a  unanimous  call  at  Gorham  ; 
but  he  feels  afraid  to  settle,  because  he  is  not  qualified. 
1  tell  him  to  settle  by  all  means;  for  if  he  waits  a  little 
longer,  he  never  will  feel  qualified  to  settle  at  all.  If  I 
had  waited  till  this  time,  I  surely  should  never  have  been 
a  minister.  I  should  give  up  now,  but  whenever  I  think 
of  it,  something  seems  to  say,  '  What  are  you  going  to 
give  up  for  ?  Supposing  you  are  a  poor,  miserable,  bimd, 
weak,  stupid  worm  of  the  dust,  with  mountains  of  oppo- 
sition before  you, — is  that  any  reason  for  discouragement? 
Have  you  yet  to  learn,  that  God  has  chosen  the  weak 
things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  mighty,  and  that,  if 
you  had  the  talents  of  an  angel,  you  could  do  nothing 
without  his  assistance  ?  Has  he  not  already  helped  you  be- 
yond all  you  dared  ask  or  think  ;  and  has  not  he  promised 
to  help  you  in  future?  What  then  would  you,  poor,  weak, 
15 


170 


MEMOIR  OF 


Stupid,  cowardly  fool,  have  more  ? — What  do  you  keep 
murmuring  about  all  the  time?  Why  don't  you  glory  in 
your  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  upon 
you  ?  To  all  this  I  can  answer  nothing,  and  so  I  keep 
dragging  on,  because  I  dare  not  leave  off  without  a  dis- 
charge. 

"  We  have  still  a  few  inquirers,  and  one  or  two  have 
joined  the  church  every  communion,  which  is  once  a  month. 
The  church  continue  to  attend  private  meetings  diligently. 
We  know  of  four  old  professors,  who  have  been  building 
on  sand,  but  now,  I  hope,  are  on  Christ;  but  we  have  still 
a  wretched  set.  One  was  yesterday  found  to  be  intempe- 
rate, who  has  been  a  professor  several  years. 

"  I  am  not  quite  so  well  as  I  have  been,  but  am  as  well 
as  when  I  left  home,  and  might  have  been  better,  if  I 
could  learn  any  prudence." 

His  filial  love  suffered  no  abatement  in  consequence  of 
his  growing  years  and  increased  cares.  How  eager  he 
was  to  relieve  a  father's  burdened  spirit,  will  be  seen  in 
the  following  letter  of  condolence  : 

"  Portland,  Nov.  13,  1808. 

"My  dearest  Father, 

"  Yours  of  the  first  inst.  I  received  yesterday,  and  its 
contents  gave  me  no  little  uneasiness.  I  am  grieved,  that 
such  depravity  should  be  displayed  by  one  so  young,*  and 
that  such  an  addition  should  be  made  to  your  cares  and 
sorrows.  How  I  long,  how  I  should  rejoice  to  say  some- 
thing, that  would  comfort  you,  my  dear  father  ;  something 
that  would  tend  to  lighten  the  burden  of  life  which  you 
mention  ;  but,  alas,  I  am  a  miserable  comforter,  and  can- 
not even  comfort  myself  I  have  been  preaching,  to-day, 
on  Isaiah  40 :  1 ,  Comfort  ye,  dtc.  ;  on  account  of  some 
who  are  afflicted  with  various  troubles  ;  and  in  trying  to 
comfort  them,  I  obtained  the  first  drop  of  consolation, 
which  I  have  tasted  for  many  days  ;  and  I  would  gladly 
share  it  with  you,  or  rather  give  you  all,  if  in  my  power. 
But  I  dare  not  presume  to  point  out  to  you  the  springs  of 

*  He  ref«rg  to  a  young  female  domestic,  who  setfire  to  his  father's 
house. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


171 


consolation,  which  the  gospel  affords,  and  at  which  you 
have  often  drank  and  been  refreshed.  But  if  I  were  wri- 
ting to  another,  I  would  ask,  What  burden  can  be  heavy 
to  one  who  lias  omnipotence  for  his  support  ?  Is  there 
not  balm  in  GUead  ?  Is  there  no  physician  there  ?  Is 
there  any  anguish,  which  this  bairn  cannot  alleviate  ?  any 
wound,  which  this  physician  cannot  heal  ?  I  would  ask, 
ean  he  need  comfort,  who  knows  that  he  belongs  to  the 
friends  and  people  of  God?  that  his  sins  are/orgiven,and  his 
name  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life  ?  Is  it  not  strong 
consolation,  consolation  sufficient  to  support  the  soul  un- 
der the  severest  trials,  to  know  that  you  are  washed,  justi- 
fied, and  sanctified  by  the  blood  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and 
the  Spirit  of  your  God  ?  that  there  is  laid  up  for  you  in 
heaven,  a  crown  of  glory,  an  inheritance  incorruptible, 
undefiled,  and  which  fadeth  not  away  ?  and  that  neither 
death,  nor  life,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things 
present,  nor  things  to  come,  shall  ever  be  able  to  separate 
you  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  your 
Lord  ?  Is  it  not  comfort  sufficient  to  satisfy  even  the 
boundless  desires  of  an  immortal  mind,  to  know  that  you 
are  a  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  member  of  Christ,  and 
a  child  of  God  1  that  the  blessed  angels  are  your  guards 
and  attendants  ;  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  your  assistant  and 
Sanctifier  ;  the  Son  of  God  your  Friend,  your  Shepherd, 
your  Intercessor,  and  Head  ;  and  God  himself,  your  Fath- 
er, your  God,  and  your  exceeding  great  reward  1  Is  it 
not  enough  to  know,  that  your  salvation  standeth  sure, 
and  that  heaven  is  as  certainly  yours,  as  if  you  already 
stood  on  Mount  Zion,  singing  the  praises  of  redeeming 
love  ?  Is  it  not  enough,  to  know  that  all  things  shall 
work  together  for  your  good,  through  time  and  eternity  ? 
and  that  he  who  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him 
up  for  us  all,  will  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  ? 
In  some  such  manner,  as  this,  I  would  write  to  an  equal, 
to  one  whose  progress  in  religion  was  small,  whose  trials 
were  liglit,  and  whose  views  of  divine  things  were  partial 
and  confined,  like  my  own.  But  to  you,  my  dear  father, 
I  dare  not  write  thus,  for  you  know  these  things  already  : 
and  you  have,  doubtless  spiritual  trials,  of  which  I  can,  as 
yet,  form  no  conception,  and  under  which,  consequently, 
I  know  not  how  even  to  try  to  comfort  yeu.    But  is  it  not 


172 


MEMOIR  OF 


some  satisfaction  to  reflect,  that,  to  you  and  my  mother,  I 
shall  be  indebted,  under  God,  for  everlasting  felicity  ; 
and  that,  if  I  am  made  the  instrument  of  doing  any  good 
in  the  world,  it  will  be  owing  to  your  prayers,  precepts, 
and  example  1  My  dear  father,  how  many  have  all  your 
trials,  and  none  of  your  comforts,  no  God  to  go  to,  no  re- 
ligion to  support  them,  no  hopes  of  heaven,  no  divine  con- 
solations, to  soothe  their  sorrows  in  this  valley  of  tears  ! 
Do,  then,  let  us  persuade  you  to  be  happy  ;  for  you  have 
been  the  means  of  great  good,  and  happiness  to  us. 

"  I  dare  not  read  over  what  I  have  written,  and  I  am 
almost  afraid  to  send  it ;  for  I  write  in  a  hurry,  and  much 
exhausted  both  in  body  and  mind  by  the  labors  of  the  day  ; 
but  I  write  with  a  most  ardent  desire  to  give  you  a  mo- 
ment's pleasure  ;  and  though  I  fear  I  shall  not  succeed, 
yet  1  hope  the  intention  will  be  accepted.  I  am  unfit  to 
write,  for  it  is  very  late,  and  I  am  very  sleepy,  very  much 
tired,  and  my  head  aches ;  but  if  I  did  not  write  now,  I  must 
w;.'.  some  time,  and  I  knew  not  how  to  wait  a  single  day, 
without  expressing  my  sorrow  for  your  new  troubles, 
though  unable  to  remove  them. 

"  My  health  remains  nearly  the  same  as  when  I  wrote 
last.  I  am  not  better,  and  I  know  not  that  I  am  worse. 
I  shall  not  fail  to  let  you  know  the  worst  as  I  promised  to 
do.    You  need  therefore,  be  under  no  apprehensions  that 

1  am  worse  than  I  represent.  The  state  of  religion  con- 
tinues much  the  same,  only  the  line  seems  to  be  drawing 
between  the  friends  and  the  enemies  of  Christ.  The 
word  is  to  some  a  savor  of  life  unto  life  ;  but  to  many,  a  sa- 
vor of  death  unto  death.  Many  among  us  seem  to  be  lit- 
erally mad  upon  their  idols  ;  but  the  church  seem  to  be 
growing  in  grace.  There  is  a  society  among  them,  who 
have  two  prayer  meetings,  weekly,  besides  a  monthly  fast. 
The  young  converts,  as  yet,  promise  fair." 

Mr.  Payson's  pastoral  labors,  during  the  first  year, 
though  much  interrupted  by  sickness,  were  nevertheless 
successful,  and  by  the  blessing  of  God  issued  in  an  acces- 
sion of  twenty-nine  members  to  the  church.  His  sermon, 
at  the  first  anniversary  of  his  ordination,  was  founded  on 

2  Cor  II.  15,  16,  in  which  he  illustrated,  in  a  very  lucid 
ana  solemn  manner,  the  propositions,  that,  "  to  those,  who 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


173 


are  saved,  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  is  a  savor  of  life 
unto  life  ;"  that  "  to  those,  who  perish,  it  is  a  savor  of 
death  unto  death  and  that  "  the  labors  of  those,  who 
preach  it,  are  in  both  cases  acceptable  to  God."  In  the 
application  of  his  discourse,  after  recognizing  with  much 
feeling  his  ordination  vows,  and  the  changes  by  death  and 
otherwise,  which  had  occurred  in  the  society,  he  acknowl- 
edges that  their  conduct  to  him  "  has  been  such  as  not 
only  to  afford  no  cause  of  complaint,  but  to  merit  and  ex- 
cite his  warmest  gratitude,  and  most  earnest  prayers  and 
endeavors  to  promote  their  temporal  and  spiritual  welfare. 
The  patience,  with  which  you  have  borne  with  the  infir- 
mities occasioned  by  a  long  and  debilitating  illness  ;  the 
diligence  and  attention,  with  which  you  have  listened  to 
the  ministrations  of  the  word,  both  in  season  and  out  of 
season;  and  the  many  proofs  of  kindness  and  regard, 
equally  unexpected  and  undeserved,  which  you  have  dis- 
played,— are  loo  deeply  impressed  on  the  heart  and  mem- 
ory of  the  speaker,  ever  to  be  forgotten  ;  and  will  render 
it  no  less  his  pleasure  and  delight,  than  it  is  his  duty, 
wholly  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  your  service.  But  mere- 
ly to  hear  the  messages  of  God  attentively,  and  to  treat 
with  kindness  those  who  bring  them,  is  not  sufficient  ;  for 
not  the  hearers,  but  the  doers  of  the  word  shall  be  justified. 

"  Permit  me,  therefore,  to  ask,  whether  you,  my  friends, 
have  done  more  than  this  ?  According  to  the  measure  of 
ability  given  me  I  have  endeavored  plainly  to  declare  un- 
to you  the  whole  counsel  of  God;  and  though,  through  an 
anxious  desire  to  strip  off  all  disguise  from  the  truth,  and 
prevent,  so  far  as  possible,  all  error  and  mistake,  the 
speaker  may  have  expressed  himself  unguardedly,  and 
only  irritated  where  he  meant  to  convince,  yet  still  it  is 
the  truth  which  he  has  proclaimed.  And  we  would  ask 
you,  most  seriously  and  affectionately,  whether  it  has  been 
to  your  souls  a  savor  of  life  unto  life,  or  of  death  unto 
death  ? 

*       *       *  * 

"  Light  as  it  may  appear  to  us,  it  is,  my  friends,  a  dread- 
ful thing  to  trifle  with  the  law  and  gospel  of  Jehovah. 
Nor  can  a  greater  curse  befall  a  people,  than  to  hear  his 
word,  if  they  neglect  to  perform  it.  A  flood  of  waters,  or 
a  deluge  of  fire,  is  comparatively  a  blessing.    There  are, 


174 


MEMOIR  OF 


doubtless,  many  such  triflers  here,  who  fully  resolve  at 
some  future  tune  to  repent  and  believe  the  gospel.  But 
on  what  are  your  hopes  founded  ?  Salvation  is  now  more 
distant  from  you  than  ever.  For  years  you  have  been 
hardLuing  in  sin.  Every  sermon  you  have  heard  has  in- 
sensibly rendered  you  worse.  You  have  already  heard 
every  motive,  argument  and  consideration,  which  the 
scriptures  afford,  and  heard  them  in  vain.  The  whole 
storehouse  of  spiritual  medicines  have  been  applied  to  your 
souls  ;  but  your  moral  diseases,  instead  of  being  healed, 
have  become  more  inveterate.  We  can  only  present  to 
you  again  the  same  remedies,  which  have  already  proved 
unsuccessful  ;  for  the  art  of  man  and  the  word  of  God  af- 
ford no  other.  Humanly  speaking,  then,  it  is  evident  you 
must  perish. — But  though  your  recovery  is  thus  impossible 
with  man,  it  is  not  with  God.  Blessed  be  his  name  !  there 
is  yet  balm  in  Gilead,  and  a  physician  there,  who  can  heal 
when  mortal  physicians  fail.  But  alas  !  you  will  not  ap- 
ply to  him.  You  will  not  believe  you  are  sick — you  will 
not  be  persuaded  to  seek  eternal  life.  You  still  go  on  to 
neglect  the  gospel  ;  and  perhaps  this  very  warning  will 
prove  to  some  of  you  a  savor  of  death  unto  death. — My 
friends,  how  trying  is  the  situation  of  the  ministers  of 
Christ,  if  they  have  any  love  for  their  people,  or  regard 
for  their  souls.  They  are  like  a  man  placed  on  the  brink 
of  a  precipice,  to  warn  travellers,  that  if  they  proceed, 
they  will  inevitably  be  dashed  in  pieces.  The  travellers 
arrive,  listen  to  the  warning,  and  then,  with  a  few  excep- 
tions, hold  on  their  course,  and  perish  before  the  eyes  of 
him  who  laboied  in  vain  to  save  them. 

"  Such,  but  infinitely  more  distressing,  is  our  situation. 
We  stand  at  the  entrance  of  the  way  of  life,  to  warn  our 
people  that  they  are  in  the  broad  road  to  destruction,  and 
to  urge  and  entreat  them  to  turn  aside  and  be  happy. 
Many  of  them  hear  our  entreaties  with  some  degree  of  at- 
tention and  regard.  They  engage  our  affections  by  kind 
offices  ;  we  labor  with  them,  tell  them  they  are  deeply 
rooted  in  our  hearts  and  affections  ;  and  then,  in  defiance 
of  'ill  our  prayers  and  tears,  they  hurry  away,  and  perish  be- 
fore our  eyes  in  a  manner  too  dreadful  to  be  conceived.  If 
this  be  not  agony,  disappointment,  and  distress,  what  is  f 
The  agonies  of  a  patriot,  trembling  for  his  country — of  a 


EPWARD  PAYSON. 


175 


wife  watching  an  expiring  husband — or  of  a  mother, 
trembling  for  a  diseased  child,  are  nothing  to  those  wnich 
he  must  feel,  who  knows  the  worth  of  an  inunortal  soul, 
who  considers  what  it  is  to  be  lost,  and  yet  sees  his  people 
perishing  before  him. 

"  O,  my  friends,  my  dear  frieuds  !  how  do  our  spirits 
droop,  and  our  hearts  sicken  with  anguish  and  despair, 
when  we  consider,  that,  notwithstanding  all  we  can  do, 
many  here  present  will  finally  find  the  gospel  a  savor  of 
death  unto  death  !  and  all  our  exertions  will  answer  no 
other  purpose  than  to  increase,  beyond  conception,  their 
misery  and  guilt !  O,  ye  precious,  immortal  souls  !  ye 
spirits,  that  will  never  die  !  ye  heirs  of  eternity  !  hear  ! — 
and  obey,  ere  it  is  too  late,  the  joyful  sound  of  the  gospel. 
O,  if  there  be  any  avenue  to  conviction,  tell  us  where  it 
lies.  Tell,  O  tell  us,  how  we  may  draw,  or  drive,  or  lead 
you  to  Christ.  Tell  us  how  we  may  bribe  you  not  to  be 
miserable  forever.  Almost  are  we  ready  to  say  with  the 
Apostle — we  could  even  wish  ourselves  accursed  from 
Christ  for  our  people,  our  friends  according  to  the  flesh,'' 


17G 


MEMOm  OF 


CHAPTER  X. 

His  dependnnce  on  God — its  influence  on  himself  and 
church — His  uniform  purpose  to  know  nothing,  save  Je- 
sus Christ  and  Him  crucified — illustration — New  tri- 
als— his  constancy  under  them — Letters — resolutions — 
increased  success. 

The  preparation  of  his  first  anniversary  sermon,  from 
whicii  some  extracts  have  been  taken,  was  attended  by 
long-continued  and  intense  private  devotion  ;  and  in 
preaching  it  he  "  had  much  assistance,  and  many  were  in 
tears."  He  looked  forward  through  the  year  to  come, 
with  the  same  prayerful  solemnity,  which  distinguished 
his  retrospect  of  the  past.  In  view  of  his  amazing  respon- 
sibilities, he  went  for  aid  "  to  the  throne  of  grace  ;  and," 
he  exclaims,  "  O,  the  unspeakable  goodness  and  conde- 
scension of  God — did  not  go  in  vain  !"  His  complaints 
still  hung,  like  a  clog,  to  him,  so  that  his  body  could  but 
partially  serve  the  ever  active  spirit  by  which  it  was  ani- 
mated. This  calamity  was  at  no  time  more  trying,  than 
when  it  prevented  him  from  preaching  his  usual  Thurs- 
day evening  lecture.  On  one  such  evening  he  makes 
this  record  : 

"  Dec.  30. — Had  a  sweet  season  in  prayer,  this  morn- 
ing ;  and  felt  fervent  love  to  my  Saviour,  and  desires  that 
he  might  be  glorified.  Was  much  assisted  in  writing  up- 
on a  subject,  which  led  me  to  insist  upon  the  constraining 
power  of  Christ's  love  ;  and,  blessed  be  God,  I  was  ena- 
bled in  some  measure  to  feel  my  subject.  Was  prevented 
from  preaching  by  the  weather,  and  the  state  of  my  health, 
which  was  a  great  disappointment." 

It  was  Mr.  Payson's  uniform,  if  not  invariable  practice, 
to  use  a  written  sermon  on  one  part  of  every  Sabbath  ; 
and  yet  it  is  worthy  of  particular  observation,  how  much 
he  sought  and  valued  divine  assistance  in  preaching.  His 
dependance  on  the  Spirit's  aid  was,  apparently,  as  real 


EUWAllD  PAYSON 


177 


and  exclusive,  as  if  he  had  made  no  previous  preparation. 
He  was  greatly  distressed,  when  engaged  in  pronouncing 
a  discourse,  unaccompanied  with  a  consciousness  of  such 
assistance  ;  and  proportionably  grateful,  when  favored 
with  it.  A  single  extract  will  exhibit  his  feelings  on  this 
subject : 

 "  Sabbath.    Preached  without  the  least  apparent 

assistance.  Was  so  distressed,  that  I  left  the  sermon  un- 
finished, and  felt  as  if  the  people  would  leave  the  house. 
Went  home,  feeling  ashamed  to  look  any  body  in  the  face. 
Was  ready  to  give  up  in  despair  ;  ....  and  had  scarcely 
any  hope  that  I  should  ever  again  behold  the  light  of  God's 
countenance.  Yet  such  is  the  inconceivable  goodness  of 
God  to  his  perverse  and  froward  children,  that  he  was 
pleased  even  then  to  melt  my  stubborn  heart  with  the  dis- 
plays of  his  love.  Felt  so  overwhelmed  with  a  sense 
of  his  goodness  and  my  own  ingratitude,  that  I  could 
not  look  up,  or  hardly  venture  to  throw  myself  at  his  feet. 
My  heart  was  broken  within  me,  to  think  that  I  should 
still  ungratefully  requite  such  infinite  goodness." 

If  this  reliance  on  God  for  help  in  preaching,  was  not 
peculiar  to  him,  but  common — as  it  probably  is  in  a  de- 
gree— to  every  evangelical  minister,  tiie  knowledge  of  the 
fact  may,  perhaps,  weaken,  if  it  does  not  remove  the  pre- 
judice, which  exists  in  many  minds  against  any  use  of 
"  notes"  by  a  preacher. 

His  diary,  during  this  winter,  bears  the  marks  of  a  rap- 
idly advancing  maturity  in  the  Christian  life.  Who  would 
Hot  emulate  the  state  of  mind,  which  is  thus  described  : 

  "  Was  favored  with  clear  views  of  the  matchless 

goodness  of  Christ  and  my  own  vileness.  Was  so  over- 
whelmed and  astonished  that  he  should  again  look  upon 
me  with  favor,  that  I  could  scarce  believe  it  possible. 
Seemed  to  be  drawn  away  from  self,  and  to  leel  more  de- 
sire that  God  should  be  glorified,  than  that  I  should  be 
happy.  This  is  the  only  heaven  I  aspire  to  ;  and  to  have 
such  a  temper  appeared  more  desirable  than  ten  thousand 
worlds.  Felt  sweetly  broken-hearted  and  grieved  to  think 
bow  I  had  sinned  against  such  a  Saviour,  and  thought  I 


178 


MEMOIU  OF 


should  be  willing  to  undergo  any  sufferings,  if  I  might 
never  offend  iiiin  again.  Longed  to  see  him  glorjfied  by 
otiiers  ;  for  I  almost  despaired  of  ever  glorifying  him  my- 
self" 

And  who,  that  reads  the  following,  and  is  informed  that 
similar  records  continue  to  occur  at  short  intervals,  will 
any  longer  wonder  that  success  crowned  his  labors  ?  The 
first  extract  shows,  that  the  duties  which  he  urged  on  oth- 
ers were  first  practised  by  himself  : 

"  Jan.  2,  1S09. — Rose  very  early  and  enjoyed  a  sweet 
season  in  secret  prayer.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting.  In  the 
evening,  felt  the  worth  of  souls  lie  with  peculiar  weight 
upon  my  mind,  and  was  enabled  to  wrestle  fervently  for 
divine  influence. 

"  Jan.  3. — Was  favored  this  morning  with  such  a  view 
of  the  worth  of  souls, — that  I  could  not  rest  at  home,  but 
went  out  to  visit  my  people,  and  stir  up  the  members  of 
the  church  to  pray  for  divine  influences.  Never  felt  such 
love  for  the  people  of  God,  as  this  day.  Seemed  willing 
to  wash  their  feet,  or  perform  the  lowest  offices,  because 
they  belonged  to  Christ.  Longed,  all  day,  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  conversion  of  sinners. 
Wished  for  health,  that  I  might  employ  my  time  for 
God.' 

A  heart  so  intent  upon  seeking  the  salvation  of  men, 
might  well  be  supposed  to  dictate  language  like  the  fol- 
lowing, when  the  tenement  in  which  it  was  lodged,  was 
too  feeble  to  be  removed  from  its  resting-place  : 

"  Jan.  7. — During  the  past  week,  the  word  of  the  Lord 
has  been  like  a  fire  shut  up  in  my  bones.  I  long  to  preach, 
but  cannot.    O,  that  I  may  be  patient  and  resigned." 

The  minister,  who  furnishes  appropriate  employment 
for  the  members  of  his  church,  performs  one  of  the  most 
useful  services  connected  with  human  agency  ;  and  is  the 
least  likely  to  labor  in  vain  and  spend  his  strength  for 
nouglit.  A  conviction  of  personal  responsibility  for  the 
prosperity  of  religion,  deeply  fixed  in  the  heart  of  every 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


179 


private  Christian — a  responsibility  which  all  are  but  too 

ready  to  throw  otf  upon  their  minister — will,  if  any  thing 
can,  render  them  circumspect,  "  instant  in  prayer,"  and 
"  always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord."  It  is  one 
of  the  best  preparations  for  hearing  the  word  with  profit; 
for  with  it  they  will  listen,  not  to  cavil,  not  to  be  amused, 
but  for  edification,  and  that  they  may  learn  "  what  the 
Lord  would  have  them  do."  The  pastor,  who  is  sus- 
tained by  the  daily  fervent  prayers  of  his  flock,  and  by 
their  frequent  united  prayers,  has  a  ground  for  encour- 
agement and  hope,  that  will  not  fail  him.  The  Spirit 
will  not  leave  that  people  unvisited,  who  so  appreciate  his 
influences,  as  to  seek  them  daily  with  ardor  of  desire, 
and  to  whom  their  descent  would  be  as  welcome,  and  as 
refreshing,  "  as  cold  waters  to  a  thirsty  soul."  It  was, 
therefore,  a  well-advised  step  in  Mr.  Payson,  to  engage 
the  prayers  of  the  church  for  a  blessing  on  the  word  dis- 
pe/isod  by  him,  and  for  a  general  revival  of  religion. 
The  great  importance  of  the  duty  justified  his  special  ex- 
ertions to  secure  its  perlbrmance,  and  both  he  and  they 
had  much  reason  to  rejoice  in  the  issue. 

"  Portland  Jan.  10,  1809. 

"  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  I  have  been,  for  some  time,  endeavoring  to  establish 
among  us  what  are  called  "Aaron  and  Hur  societies," 
i.  e.  little  collections  of  four,  five,  or  more  persons,  to 
meet  before  service  on  Sabbath  morning,  and  spend  an 
hour  in  praying  for  a  blessing  on  the  minister  and  ordi- 
nances. They  begun  new  year's  dc^,  and  we  seemed  to 
have  an  immediate  answer ;  for  the  meeting  was  unusu- 
sually  solemn,  and  we  have  reason  to  hope  the  word  was 
not  preached  in  vain.  Our  hopes  of  another  revival  are 
increasing,  as  there  seems  to  be  an  unusual  spirit  of 
prayer,  and  several  persons  have  lately  been  awakened. 
However,  God's  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  and  we  may 
be  disappointed.  Indeed,  it  seems  impossible  to  me,  that 
there  should  be  any  attention,  so  long  as  I  am  here.  I 
am  harassed  with  such  violent  temptations,  from  morning 
till  night,  and  from  night  till  morning,  with  scarce  a  mo- 
ment's intermission,  that  I  am  utterly  weary  of  life,  and 
ready  to  despair.    It  seems  as  if  I  must  one  day  perish  by 


180 


MEMOIR  OF 


the  hands  of  this  accursed  Saul,  which  seeks  to  destroy 
me.  When  I  have  a  moment's  ease,  tiie  word  of  the 
Lord  is  like  a  fire  shut  up  in  my  bones,  and  it  seems  as 
if  I  must  preach,  if  I  die  for  it,  even  to  stocks  and  stones, 
if  men  will  not  hear  ;  and  yet  I  can  only  preach  once  on 
the  Sdbaath,  and  am  obliged  to  restrain  all  the  week. 
This  sets  melancholy  to  work,  and  gives  the  adversary 
great  advantage  over  me.  Yet  I  appear  to  know  it  is  all 
right  and  necessary ;  but  this  knowledge  does  not  com- 
fort and  strengthen  me,  as  it  ought.  Truly  the  righteous 
scarcely  are  saved  ;  and  we  must  through  much  tribula- 
tion enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  Still,  however,  ex- 
ternally my  cup  runs  over  with  blessings.  My  people  are 
so  kind,  it  makes  me  utterly  ashamed,  and  Mr.  K.  is  like  a 
father  to  me  in  every  thing.  But  instead  of  feeling  grate- 
ful, and  being  able  to  glorify  God  for  his  goodness,  I  am 
so  overwhelmed  with  temptations,  that  1  can  do  nothing 
but  sit  still  and  tremble,  lest  they  hurry  me  into  some 
open  sin,  which  will  bring  dishonor  on  the  cross.  O,  my 
dearest  mother,  do  pity  me,  and  pray  for  me  ;  for  I  am 
sifted  like  wheat." 

The  customs  of  society  often  render  a  minister's  pres- 
ence unavoidable  on  public  occasions  or  celebrations,  of  a 
nature  not  easily  defined  ;  but  which  are  of  a  mixed  char- 
acter, partly  secular,  and  partly  religious.  But  Mr.  Payson 
would  never  degrade  his  official  character.  Wherever  he 
was  present,  there  the  ambassador  of  Christ  "stood  con- 
fest."  He  never  would  consent  to  be  the  mere  amusing 
companion,  or  entertaining  speaker.  Those,  whom  he 
addressed,  whatever  the  occasion,  were  reminded  that 
they  were  probationers  for  eternity.  Very  pleasing  evi- 
dence of  this  has  been  found  in  some  copious  remnants  of 
a  performance,  which,  in  March  of  this  year,  he  addressed 
to  a  Musical  Society.  Who  would  look  for  a  proof  of 
the  existence  and  perfections  of  God  on  such  an  occasion  ? 
for  a  history  of  the  apostacy  of  angels — of  the  fall  and  re- 
eovery  of  man — and  of  the  ultimate  destination  and  em- 
ployment of  redeemed  sinners  ?  Yet  all  this,  "  in  strains 
as  sweet  as  angels  use,"  was  wrought  into  an  address  on 
music. — Were  it  his  object  to  pronounce  an  encomium 
on  music,  he  might,  he  observes  in  the  introduction,  from 


EDWAHD  PAYSON. 


181 


the  ample  materials  furnished  by  oratory,  poets,  historians, 
and  pliilosophers,  of  past  ages,  "  easily  conipose  a  rich 
and  unfading  wreath  of  applause,  with  which  to  encircle 
and  adorn  her  brows."  But, 

"  Without  resorting  to  the  hyperbolical  expressions  of 
poetry,  or  to  the  dreams  and  fables  of  pagan  mythology, 
to  the  wonders  said  to  be  performed  by  the  lyre  of  Am- 
phion,  and  the  harp  of  Orpheus, — I  might  place  btibre 
you  the  prophet  of  Jeho vail,  composing  his  ruffled  spirits 
by  the  soothing  influence  of  music,  that  he  might  be  suit- 
ably prepared  to  receive  a  message  from  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 
I  might  present  to  your  view  the  evil  spirit,  by  which 
jealous  and  melancholy  Saul  was  afflicted,  flying,  baflied 
and  defeated,  from  the  aiiimating  and  harmonious  tones 
of  David's  harp.  I  might  show  you  the  samt  David,  the 
defender  aud  avenger  of  his  flock,  the  champion  and  bul- 
wark of  his  country,  the  conqueror  of  Goliath,  the  greatest 
warrior  and  monarch  of  his  age,  laying  down  the  sword 
and  the  sceptre,  to  take  up  his  harp  ;  and  exchanging  the 
titles  of  victor  and  king,  for  the  more  honoral)le  title  of  the 

sweet  Psalmist  of  Israel  But  I  appear  not  beibre 

you  as  her  advocate  ;  for  in  that  character  my  exertions 
would  be  superfluous.  She  is  present  to  speak  for  herself, 
and  assert  her  own  claims  to  our  notice  and  approbation. 
You  have  heard  her  voice  in  the  performances  of  this 
evening  ;  and  those  of  you,  whom  the  God  of  nature  has 
favored  with  a  capacity  of  feeling  and  understanding  her 
eloquent  language,  will,  I  trust,  acknowledge  that  she  has 
pleaded  her  own  cause  with  triumphant  success  ;  has  giv- 
en sensible  demonstration,  that  she  can  speak,  not  only 
to  the  ear,  but  to  the  heart ;  and  that  she  possesses  irre- 
sistible power  to  soothe,  delight,  and  fascinate  the  soul. 
Nor  was  it  to  the  senses  alone,  that  she  spake  ;  but  while, 
in  harmonious  sounds,  she  maintained  her  claims  aud  as- 
serted her  powers  ;  in  a  still  and  small,  but  convincing 
voice,  she  addressed  herself  directly  to  reason  and  con- 
science, proclaiming  the  most  solemn  and  important  truths  ; 
truths,  which  perhaps  some  of  you  did  not  hear  or  regard, 
but  which  deserve  and  demand  our  most  serious  attention. 
....  With  the  same  irresistible  evidence,  as  if  an  angel 
had  spoken  from  heaven,  she  said,  There  is  a  God — and 
16 


182 


MEMOIR  OF 


that  God  is  good  and  benevolent.  For,  my  friends,  who 
but  God  could  have  tuned  the  human  voice  ?  and  given 
harmony  to  sounds  ?  Who,  but  a  good  and  benevolent 
God,  would  have  given  us  senses  capable  of  perceiving 
and  enjoying  this  harmony  ?  Who,  but  such  a  being, 
would  have  opened  a  way  through  the  ear,  for  its  passage 
to  the  soul  ?  Could  blind  chance  have  produced  these 
wonders  of  wisdom  ?  or  a  malignant  being  these  miracles 
of  goodness  ?  Could  they  have  caused  this  admirable  fit- 
ness between  harmony  of  sounds,  and  the  organs  of  sense, 
by  which  it  is  perceived  1  No.  They  would  have  either 
given  us  no  sen.ses,  or  left  them  imperfect,  or  rendered 
every  sound  discordant  and  harsh.  With  the  utmost  pro- 
priety, therefore,  may  Jehovah  ask.  Who  hath  made  man's 
mouth  ?  and  planted  the  ear  1  Have  not  I,  the  Lord  ? 
With  the  utmost  justice,  also,  may  he  demand  of  us,  that 
all  our  musical  powers  and  faculties  should  be  consecra- 
ted to  his  service,  and  employed  in  celebrating  his  praises. 
To  urge  you,  diligently,  and  cheerfully,  to  perform  this 
pleasing,  reasonable,  and  indispensable  duty,  is  the  prin- 
cipal object  of  the  speaker.  Not  then,  as  the  advocate  of 
music,  but  as  the  ambassador  of  that  God,  whose  being 
and  benevolence  music  proclaims,  do  I  now  address  this 
assembly,  entreating  every  individual,  without  delay,  to 
adopt,  and  practise  the  resolution  of  the  royal  Psalmist — 
/  zcill  sing  unto  the  Lord,  as  long  as  I  live  ;  I  will  sing 
praise  to  my  God,  while  I  have  my  being.    Ps.  104  :  33." 

He  then  carries  his  hearers  back  to  the  origin  of  the 
world,  when  "  every  thing  was  very  good,"  and  "  all  crea- 
tion harmonized  together.  All  its  parts,  animate  and  inan- 
imate, like  the  voices  and  instruments  of  a  well  regulated 
concert,  helped  to  compose  a  perfect  and  beautiful  whole  ; 
and  so  exquisite  was  the  harmony  thus  produced,  that  in 
the  whole  compass  of  creation,  not  one  jarring  or  discord- 
ant note  was  heard,  even  by  the  perfect  ear  of  God  him- 
self. ....  The  blessed  angels  of  light  began  the  universal 
chorus,  "  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the 
sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy." — He  describes  "  the  music 
of  the  spheres,"  the  part  which  the  heavenly  bodies  per- 
formed in  the  concert,  and  descends  through  the  animate 
creation,  down  to  the  meanest  thing  that  hath  life — 


EDVVAKI)  VAYSON. 


183 


"  E'en  the  dumb  fish,  that,  swam  tlie  flood, 
Leaped  up,  and  meant  the  praise  of  God." 

"Of  this  universal  concert  man  was  appointed  the  ter- 
restrial leader  ;  and  was  furnished  with  natural  and  moral 
powers,  admirably  fitted  for  this  blessed  and  glorious  em- 
ployment. His  body,  exempt  from  dissolution,  disease, 
and  decay,  was  like  a  perfect  and  well  strung  instrument, 
which  never  gave  forth  a  false  or  uncertain  sound,  but 
always  answered,  with  exact  precision,  the  wishes  of  his 
nobler  part,  the  soul.  His  heart  did  not  then  belie  his 
tongue,  when  he  sung  the  praises  of  his  Creator  ;  but  all 
the  emotions  felt  by  the  one,  were  expressed  by  the  other, 
from  the  high  notes  of  ecstatic  admiration,  thankfulness, 
and  joy,  down  to  the  deep  tones  of  the  most  profound  ven- 
eration and  humility.  In  a  word,  his  heart  was  the  throne 
of  celestial  love  and  harmony,  and  his  tongue,  at  once, 
the  organ  of  their  will,  and  the  sceptre  of  their  power. 

"  We  are  told,  in  ancient  story,  ol  a  statue,  formed  with 
such  wonderful  art,  that,  wlienever  it  was  visited  by  the 
rays  of  the  rising  sun,  it  gave  forth,  in  honor  of  that  lu- 
minary, the  most  melodious  and  ravishing  sounds.  In 
like  manner,  man  was  originally  so  constituted  by  skill 
divine,  that,  whenever  he  contemplated  the  rays  of  wis- 
dom, power,  and  goodness,  emanating  from  the  great  Sun 
of  the  moral  -system,  the  ardent  emotions  of  his  soul  spon- 
taneously burst  forth  in  the  most  pure  and  exalted  strains 
ol'  adoration  and  praise.  Such  was  the  world,  such  was 
man  at  his  creation.  Even  in  the  eye  of  the  Creator,  all 
was  good  ;  for,  wherever  he  turned,  he  saw  only  his  own 
image,  and  heard  nothing  but  his  own  praises.  Love 
beamed  from  every  countenance  ;  harmony  reigned  in 
every  breast,  and  Howed  mellifluous  from  every  tongue  ; 
and  the  grand  chorus  of  praise,  begun  by  raptured  seraphs 
round  the  thrime,  and  heard  from  heaven  to  earth,  was 
re-echoed  back  from  earth  to  heaven  ,  and  this  blissiul 
sound,  loud  as  the  archangel's  trump,  and  sweet  as  the 
melody  of  his  golden  harp,  rapidly  spread,  and  was  re- 
ceived from  world  to  world,  and  floated,  in  gently  undula- 
ting waves,  even  to  the  farthest  bounds  of  creation." 

To  this  primeval  harmony  he  exhibits  the  lamentable 
contrast,  which  followed,  when  sin  "  untuned  the  tongues 
of  angels,  and  changed  their  blissful  songs  of  praise  inio 


184 


MEMOIR  OF 


the  groans  of  wretchedness,  the  execrations  of  malignity, 
the  blasphemies  of  impiety,  and  the  ravings  of  despair. 
Storms  and  tempests,  earthquakes  and  convulsions,  fire 
from  above  and  deluges  from  beneath,  which  destroyed 
the  order  of  the  natural  world,  proved  that  its  baleful  in- 
fluence had  reached  our  earth;  and  afforded  a  faint  em- 
blem of  the  jars  and  disorders  which  sin  had  introduced 
into  the  moral  system.  Man's  corporeal  part,  that  lyre  of 
a  thousand  strings,  tuned  by  the  finger  of  God  himself, 
destined  to  last  long  as  the  soul,  and  to  be  her  instrument 
in  otfering  up  eternal  praise,  was,  at  one  blow,  shattered, 
unstrung,  and  almost  irreparably  ruined.  His  soul,  all 
whose  powers  and  faculties,  like  the  chords  of  an  ^olian 
harp,  once  harmoniously  vibrated  to  every  breath  of  the 
divine  Spirit,  and  ever  returned  a  sympathizing  sound  to 
the  tones  of  kindness  and  love  from  a  fellow-being,  now 
became  silent,  and  insensible  to  melody,  or  produced  only 
the  jarring  and  discordant  notes  of  envy,  malice,  hatred, 
and  revenge.  The  mouth,  filled  with  cursing  and  bitter- 
ness, was  set  against  the  heavens  ;  the  tongue  was  in- 
flamed with  the  fire  of  hell.  Every  voice,  instead  of  uni- 
ting in  the  song  of  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  was  now 
at  variance  with  the  voices  around  it  ;  and  in  barbarous 
and  dissonant  strains  sung  praise  to  itself,  or  was  employ- 
ed in  muttering  sullen  murmurs  against  the  Most  High — 
in  venting  slanders  against  fellow  creatures — in  celebra- 
ting and  deifying  some  worthless  idol,  or  in  singing  the 
triuiuphs  of  intemperance,  dissipation,  and  excess.  The 
noise  of  violence  and  cruelty  was  heard,  mingled  with  the 
boasting  of  the  oppressor  and  the  cry  of  the  oppressed,  and 
the  complaints  of  the  wretched  ;  while  the  shouts  of  em- 
battled hosts,  the  crash  of  arms,  the  brazen  clangor  of 
trumpets,  the  shrieks  of  the  wounded,  the  groans  of  the 
dying,  and  all  the  horrid  din  of  war — together  with  tiie 
wailings  of  those  whom  it  had  rendered  widows  and  or- 
phans,— overwhelmed  and  drowned  every  sound  of  benev- 
olence, praise,  and  love.  Such  is  the  jargon  which  sin 
has  introduced ,  such  the  discord,  which,  from  every 
quarter  of  our  globe,  has  long  ascended  up  into  the  ears 
of  the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

He  next  adverts  to  the  mission  of  Jesus  Christ, — fol- 
lowed by  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit, — to  restore  har- 


E1>\VARI>  I'AYSON. 


185 


mony  ;  when  "  those  benevolent  beings,  who  celebrated 
the  birth-day  of  creation,  joined  with  tenfold  transports  in 
singing  slory  to  God  in  the  highest,  that  there  was  again 
on  earth  peace,  and  good  will  to  men  ;  and  tiiat  the  vacan- 
cy, which  sin  had  occasioned  among  the  choirs  and  armies 
of  heaven,  would  soon  be  filled  by  individuals  selected  irom 
the  human  race,  and  taught  to  sing  the  song  of  the  Lamb, 
by  the  influences  of  the  Spirit  of  harmony  himself  To 
teach  mankind  this  sacred  song,  and  thus  prepare  them 
to  fill  the  places,  and  perform  the  ofiices  of  those  angels, 
who  kept  not  their  first  estate,  is  the  great  object  of  God 
in  the  preservation  of  the  world,  in  its  various  revolu- 
tions, and  in  all  the  dispensations  of  his  providence  and 
grace  ;  while  to  learn  it,  comprises  our  duty  here — as,  to 
sing  it,  will  constitute  our  employment  an^l  happiness 
hereafter.  This  song,  however,  which  St.  John  heard 
sung  upon  Mount  Zion  by  the  one  hundred  and  forty  and 
four  thousand,  can  be  taught  by  none  but  the  Spirit  of 
God." — He  then  urges  the  importance  of  piety  in  singers, 
especially  such  as  lead  in  this  part  of"  worship  ;  and  en- 
forces the  duty  of  parents  to  cultivate  musical  talents  in 
their  children.  "  Were  I  his  duty  duly  performed,  trom 
proper  motives,  we  sliould  soon  see  a  sight,  which  was, 
perhaps,  never  seen  on  earth, — a  whole  assembly  employ- 
ed in  singing  praise  to  God.  But  as  this  pleasing  sight 
is  probably  reserved  for  the  celestial  world,  let  the  leaders 
in  this  deligiitful  part  of  religious  worship  remember,  that 
if  holiness  becomes  God's  house  forever — if  it  is  required 
that  those  who  bear  the  vessels  of  the  Lord  should  be  holy, 
much  more  is  it  required  of  those  who  are  the  mouth  ot 
his  people  in  singing  his  praise."  In  a  solemn  applica- 
tion, he  carries  his  hearers  forward  to  the  time,  when 
"  every  tongue  in  the  assembly  will  be  employed  in  prais- 
ing or  blaspheming — every  individual  be  an  angel  or  a 
demon." 

There  is  a  luxuriance  in  his  style  at  the  time  of  writing 
this  address,  which  was  considerably  chastened  in  later 
years.  Taken  as  a  whole,  the  performance,  while  it  was 
in  perfect  unison  with  the  occasion,  was  admirably  adap- 
ted to  promote  the  great  object,  which  was  always  upj)er- 
most  in  his  mind,  and  may  serve  as  a  specimen  of  his  talent 


16* 


186 


MEMOIR  or 


for  making  every  occasion  speak  with  force  to  the  con- 
sciences of  men. 

Bodily  infirmity  continued  still  to  cramp  and  repress 
his  energies  ;  and  he  had  already  "  been  assured  by  his 
physician  that  his  complaints  were  mortal." 

"  April  26. — Was  excessively  weak,  so  that  I  could  do 
nothing  to  any  purpose.  Longed  to  lay  my  feeble  body 
in  the  grave,  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and 
the  weary  are  at  rest.  Not  that  I  was  weary  of  God's  ser- 
vice, if  I  could  serve  him  with  more  strength  and  sincerity  ; 
but  my  mind  sunk  under  the  weakness  of  my  body." 

"  Portland,  May  11,  1809. 

  *'  The  Spirit  seems  still  to  accompany  the  word 

among  us,  and  the  attention  to  religion  is  rather  increa.s- 
ing.  Several  new  instances  of  conviction  have  occurred 
lately,  which  now  bid  fair  to  be  abiding.  *  *  * 

"  We  have,  this  year,  twenty  tithingmen,  instead  often 
last  year,  and  none  the  year  before  ;  and  are  in  a  fair 
way  to  have  the  town  reformed,  at  least  externally.  Sev- 
eral of  the  most  conspicuous  leaders  in  the  race  of  plea- 
sure and  fashion,  have  lately  become  more  serious,  and 
we  are  hoping  their  example  will  be  followed  by  others. 
The  Grand  Jury,  also,  begin  to  perform  their  duty,  in  pre- 
senting parishes,  that  have  no  preaching,  and  shutting  up 
tippling  shops  and  bad  houses.  We  are,  therefore,  en- 
couraged to  hope,  that  God,  by  thus  removing  some  of 
our  external  spots  and  pollutions,  is  preparing  the  way  for 
an  inward,  real  reformation.  There  seems,  also,  to  be  a 
hearing  ear,  and  our  meetings  on  the  Sabbath  are  unusu- 
ally crowded,  and  the  church  seems  to  be  unusually 
humbled  under  a  sense  of  their  deficiences.  The  state  of 
my  health  still  continues  a  clog  upon  me  ;  but  it  is  a  great 
mercy,  and  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  pray  for  its  re- 
moval." 

Before  this  time,  he  had  felt  his  hands  strengthened  by 
the  settlement  of  a  highly  valued  brother  over  a  church  in 
a  neighboring  town  ;  but  new  trials  awaited  him,  which 
put  the  integrity  of  his  principles  to  the  severest  test. 
With  reference  to  an  overture,  which  he  could  not  meet, 


EPWAKI)  PATSON. 


187 


without  sacrificing,  in  his  own  view,  his  Master's  honor, 
he  observes,  it  was  made,  "  hoping,  no  doubt,  either  to 
stop  my  mouth,  as  ^Eneas  did  that  of  old  Cerberus,  with 
this  honey-cake,  or  at  least  to  discover  from  my  answer 
how  I  meant  to  conduct."  He  was  remarkably  circum- 
spect in  his  official  conduct,  quick  to  discern  the  purport 
and  bearings  of  every  act  on  the  interests  of  the  church, 
and  avoided  every  step,  by  which  those  interests  would  be 
compromitted. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year,  a  minister  was  ordained 
over  the  first  chUrch  in  Portland.  His  conduct  in  relation 
to  that  transaction  has  been  the  frequent  topic  of  very 
severe  animadversion,  and  is  not,  even  now,  "lost  in  si- 
lence and  forgot."  Justice  to  his  memory,  therefore,  re- 
quires that  the  grounds  upon  which  he  proceeded,  should 
be  known.  The  first  reference  to  the  affair  is  contained 
in  a  letter,  which  bears  date  not  many  days  before  tiie  or- 
dination, and  is  in  these  words — "  One  of  the  Deacons 
came  to  me,  representing  it  as  the  wish,  not  only  of  IVIr. 
 ,  but  of  the  church,  that  there  might  be  harmony  be- 
tween the  churches,  and  that  I  would  give  him  the  Right 

Hand.    I  told  him,  that  I  was  much  obliged  to  Mr.  , 

and  to  the  church  ;  that  1  wished  for  harmony  as  nmch  as 
they  possibly  could  ;  but  that  it  belonged  to  the  Council 
to  assign  the  parts,  and  that  no  one  could  pledge  himself 
to  perform  any  part,  at  an  ordination,  till  he  was  acquain- 
ted with  the  candidate,  and  knew  what  were  the  senti- 
ments he  intended  to  inculcate."  Alter  stating  the  Dea- 
con's reply,  expressing  his  confidence  in  the  sentiments 
and  character  of  the  man,  the  letter  proceeds — "  1  told 
him,  we  could  better  form  an  opinion  of  the  candidate, 
when  he  came  before  the  Council  ;  and  tl'.at  1  hoped  we 
should  find  nothing  in  his  conduct  or  belief,  which  would 
occasion  any  difficulty,  and  so  we  parted.  How  it  will 
end,  it  is  impossible  to  say." 

This  is  not  the  language  of  a  prejudiced  mind,  con- 
demning a  man  uniieard,  and  "  taking  up  a  report  against 
his  neighbor  ;"  but  of  one  who  had  learned  the  apostolic 
lesson,  "  judge  nothing  before  the  time."  No  other  course 
would  have  been  equally  proper  and  scriptural.  His  prin- 
ciples of  conduct,  in  this  case,  will  bear  the  strictest  scru- 
tiny.— Later  still,  he  thus  adverts  to  the  subject  : 


168 


MEMOIR  OF 


"  The  ordination  is  just  at  hand,  and  engrosses  univer- 
sal attention  in  town. — The  candidate  is  a  fine  scholar, 

has  an  amiable  disposition,  and  has  treated  me  in 

that  frank,  open,  friendly  manner,  which  is  just  calculated 
to  win  me  over  to  his  side.  Add  to  this,  that  both  his  so- 
ciety and  min«  are  anxious,  that  the  old  enmity  between 
the  two  parishes  may  now  be  done  away,  since  two  young 
men  are  placed  over  them.  But  I  hope  1  shall  be  able  to 
act  as  duty  requires." 

Here,  certainly,  was  a  combination  of  motives,  power- 
ful beyond  all  others,  to  influence  a  man  situated  as 
was.  Nothing,  which  he  could  do,  would  have  so  imme- 
diately raised  him  in  the  popular  estimation,  as  to  have 
approved  and  taken  part  in  the  ordination.  The  excel- 
lent general  character,  and  distinguished  attainments  of 
the  candidate,  which  he  was  quick  to  perceive,  and  Ibr- 
ward  to  appreciate,  the  interesting  relations  of  the  two  so- 
cieties, the  almost  universal  wish,  and  the  equally  exten- 
sive disappointment  and  chagrin,  which  would  follow  up- 
on his  dissent,  and  numerous  other  circumstances,  pleaded 
with  an  eloquence,  which  it  required  a  martyr's  firmness 
to  resist.  But  it  was  not  a  question  for  mere  feelings  to 
decide.  There  was  a  higher  umpire.  He  had  derived 
his  instructions  from  an  infallible  source,  and  they  left 
him  no  discretionary  power  in  the  case.  The  same  au- 
thority had  prescribed  the  qualifications  of"  a  good  minis- 
ter of  Jesus  Christ."  Nor  had  he  forgotten  the  caution, 
which,  in  circumstances  of  peculiar  solemnity,  had  been 
enforced  upon  him  respecting  the  exercise  of  one  of  the 
most  important  prerogatives,  conferred  by  his  commission, 
Tiie  result  of  the  examination,  and  of  a  comparison,  in 
this  instance,  of  what  was  developed,  with  the  requisitions 
of  God's  word,  was  a  firm  conviction  that  he  could  not 
eo-operate  with  the  Council  in  the  ordination.  Nor  did 
he,  like  some  others,  merely  decline  to  act  ;  he  raised  his 
hand  against  proceeding.  He  did  not  only  evade  respon- 
sibility on  the  one  hand,  but  he  assumed  it  on  the  other. 
His  opposition  was  open  and  manly  ;  and  he  found,  in  an 
approving  conscience,  a  satisfaction,  which  was  cheaply 
purchased  by  the  temporary  loss  of  popular  favor,  and  by 
suffering  all  the  odium,  which,  in  consequence  of  that  act, 


EDWARP  PAYSON. 


]89 


he  incurred.  He  thus  alludes  to  it,  in  a  letter  to  his 
father  : 

"  The  ordination  is  over  I  shall  not  trouble  you 

with  an  account  of  the  good-natured  speeches,  which  are 
made  respecting  my  conduct.  You  can  easily  conceive 
of  them  ;  and  will  join  with  me  in  rejoicing,  that  1  share 
the  blessednesa  of  those,  concerning  whom  all  manner  of 
evil  is  spoken,  falsely, /"or  Christ's  sake. — It  will  only  be 
a  nine  days'  wonder  to  the  good  folks  and  gossips,  who 
will  lament,  in  very  pathetic  strains,  that  Mr.  Payson 
should  have  such  bigoted,  narrow,  party  views,  and  that 
there  cannot  be  harmony  and  peace  between  the  two 
churches." 

Time,  instead  of  reversing,  has  confirmed  the  correct- 
ness of  his  decision.  The  difference  between  his  creed 
and  that  which  he  opposed,  is  now  generally  admitted  by 
the  adherents  of  both,  to  be  as  wide,  as  Mr.  Payson  made 
it.  He  was  a  magnanimous  opponent,  who  did  not  allow 
a  difl'erence  of  opinion  to  interrupt  "  the  charities  of  life  ;" 
and  his  conduct  in  this  respect  was  reciprocated. — We 
now  return  to  his  letters  : 

"June  5,  1809. 

"  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  You  judged  right  with  respect  to  my  anxiety  to  hear 
from  home  ;  for  after  the  first  of  your  letters,  giving  an 
account  of  my  father's  illness,  arrived,  I  could  scarcely 
rest,  till  the  arrival  of  the  other  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  approaching  ordination,  and  some  promising  appear- 
ances among  my  people,  1  should,  ere  this,  have  been  at 
home.  I  must  confess  that  I  am  surprised,  as  well  as 
grieved,  that  father  should  persist  in  preaching,  when  it  is 
so  clearly  and  indispensably  his  duty  to  desist  ;  especially 
after  the  admonitions  he  has  given  ine  on  that  subject. 
He  would  see  and  allow,  with  respect  to  any  other  person 
in  the  same  situation,  that  it  was  wrong  to  preach.  Per- 
haps my  language  may  appear  almost  disrespectfiil  :  but 
on  this  subject,  1  am  too  nearly  interested,  to  u.se  the  cold 
language  of  strict  propriety.  I  cannot  be  silent ;  and 
ahould  the  consequences,  which  I  fear,  result  from  his 


190 


MEMOIR  OF 


preaching,  it  would  ever  be  with  me  a  subject  of  bitter  re- 
gret, that  T  had  not  done  all  in  my  power  to  prevent  it. 
He  must  desist.  It  is  a  duty,  which  he  owes  himself",  his 
family,  his  people,  and  his  God,  to  desist — for  preaching 
now  will  be  his  death  ;  and  his  family  and  people  will  re- 
pent too  late,  if  they  do  not  prevail  upon  him  not  to  preach 
aijain,  till  he  is  better.  Mark  my  words — for  I  will  have 
nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,  be  the  consequences 
what  they  may.  If  I  were  at  home,  he  should  walk  over 
mv  body,  before  he  could  get  into  the  pulpit.  Excuse  me, 
my  dear  mother,  and  plead  with  him  to  pardon  my  bold- 
ness ;  but  I  am  distressed  with  the  bare  apprehension  of 
what  the  consequence  may  be. 

June  7. 

"  My  health  continues  to  mend,  though  slowly.  I  get 
over  the  fatigue  of  preaching  much  sooner  than  I  did,  and 
my  food  and  sleep  nourish  and  refresh  me,  which  has  not 
been  the  case,  till  lately.  The  religious  attention  appears 
rather  to  increase,  than  diminish  ;  but  though  it  is  pleas- 
ant to  see  inquirers,  yet  the  constant  anxiety  which  they 
occasion,  lest  they  should  go  back,  is  exceedingly  painful, 
and  wears  upon  nature.  I  know  it  is  wrong  thus  to  take 
Christ's  work  out  of  his  hands  and  to  perplex  myself  re- 
specting events,  over  which  I  have  no  control  ;  but  as  yet 
I  cannot  wholly  refrain,  though  the  fault,  like  most  other 
faults,  carries  its  own  punishment  with  it.  I  am  at  pres- 
ent, unless  greatly  deceived,  in  the  worst  part  of  the 
Christian  race.  My  people  love  me,  but  I  cannot  enjoy 
their  kindness,  lest,  instead  of  rendering  me  thankful,  it 
should  only  feed  pride.  I  can  take  no  pleasure  in  any 
success  that  attends  my  labors  for  similar  reasons.  I  am 
surrounded  with  blessings  more  than  I  should  have  dared 
to  hope  for  :  but  this  accursed  sin  turns  them  all  to  poison 
and  bitterness.  Were  it  not  for  this  how  happy  might  I 
be.  But,  blessed  be  God,  this  shows  me  more  and  more 
clearly,  what  an  evil  and  bitter  thing  it  is  to  forsake  the 
Lord  of  Hosts." 

Portland,  Aug.  1,  1809. 

"  My  dear  Sister, 

My  time  is  so  much  engiossed  by  parochial  affairs, 


EDWARD  PAYSON 


191 


that,  till  this  moment,  I  have  had  no  leisnre  to  write,  and 
must  now  steal  time  from  other  things  which  require  my 
attention.    You  can  have  no  conception,  unless  you  were 
present,  how  my  time  is  taken  up.    Every  moment  is 
mortgaged  before  it  arrives,  and,  notwithstanding  all  my 
exertions,  the  business  seems  to  grow  upon  my  hands,  so 
that  1  am  ready  to  sit  down  in  despair  and  do  nothing.  If 
every  day  was  as  long  as  ten,  there  would  be  ample  em- 
ployment for  every  hour.    I  find  scarcely  any  time  to  read 
or  study,  and  am  constrained  to  go  into  the  pulpit  with 
discourses  so  undigested,  that  my  pride  is  continually 
mortified  ;  and  though  it  lies  groaning  and  bleeding  under 
continual  wounds,  it  will  not  be  persuaded  to  give  up  the 
ghost.    However,  so  long  as  God  is  pleased  to  carry  on 
his  work  with  such  discourses,  I  have  no  right  to  com- 
plain, or  be  discouraged  ;  since,  the  feebler  the  means, 
the  more  he  is  glorified.    And  I  hope  that,  some  time  or 
other,  I  shall  learn  to  be  willing  to  be  counted  a  fool,  that 
all  the  glory  may  redound  to  his  wisdom.    But  this  is  a 
hard  lesson  to  learn.    To  be  willing  to  be  nothing,  to 
rejoice  to  be  nothing,  that  God  may  be  all  in  all  ;  to, 
glory  in  infirmities  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  up- 
on us, — this  is  the  temper,  which  I  pine  and  hunger  after ; 
but  alas  1  it  appears  at  a  distance  so  great,  that  I  despair 
of  ever  reaching  any  where  near  it  in  this  world.    If  we 
could  put  God  entirely  in  the  place  of  self,  consider  his 
will  as  our  will,  his  honor,  as  our  honor,  his  happiness,  as 
our  happiness,  his  interest  as  our  interest,  and  pursue  it 
accordingly,  how  happy  should  we  be  !    And  how  happy 
shall  we  be  in  that  world,  where  this  will  be  the  case,  and 
where  the  very  stump  of  that  Dagon,  self,  will  not  be  per- 
mitted to  remain  in  our  hearts,  as  the  rival  of  our  blessed 
Redeemer.    O,  to  be  holy  as  God  is  holy — this  is  to  be 
happy,  according  to  our  measure,  as  God  is  happj.  Strive 
then,  my  dear,  dear  sister,  strive,  wrestle,  pray,  long  and 
pant  after  holiness.    If  I  cannot  be  holy  myself,  yet  I  long 
to  see  others  holy.    If  I  cannot  love  and  praise  the  ever 
blessed  Redeemer,  it  is  almost  heaven  sufficient  to  see 
him  loved  and  praised  by  others.    If  we  could  render  to 
him  according  to  his  benefits — but  we  cannot,  we  cannot; 
we  must  be  content  to  be,  as  it  were,  crushed  to  all  eter- 
nity under  an  insupportable  weight  of  goodness,  for  even 


192 


MEMOIR  OF 


the  disposition  to  praise  him  for  favors  already  received, 
is  a  new  favor,  which  still  adds  to  the  mighty  debt  ;  and 
the  faster  he  enables  us  to  render  back  what  we  receive, 
so  much  the  faster  do  our  obligations  increase.  And 
yet,  instead  of  praising  him,  we  are  constantly  sin- 
ning. I  hope  it  is  not  so  bad  witii  others,  but  with  respect 
to  myself,  there  seems  to  bo  constant  strife  between  him 
and  !ne,  whether  I  shall  exceed  in  provoking,  or  he  in 
pardoning ;  whether  I  shall  succeed  in  destroying  my- 
self l^y  my  own  madness  and  folly  against  his  will,  or  he 
succ  eed  in  saving  me  in  spite  of  myself  But  in  this  strife 
he  still  conquer.s,  and  will  conquer.  I  have  done  every 
thin:,r  to  provoke  him  to  leave  me ;  but  he  will  not  be 
provoked.  He  will  still  return  to  humble  me,  and  shame 
me  ;  and  I  am  ready  to  call  on  the  rocks  and  mountains  to 
fall  on  me,  and  hide  me  from  the  tender,  expostulating, 
heart-breaking,  soul-subduing  glances  of  his  eye,  which 
fill  tne  with  such  shame  and  confusion,  that  it  seems  as  if 
I  could  more  easily  endure  the  lightnings  of  his  indigna- 
tion. Were  all  his  people  like  me,  and  v/ere  justice  done 
upon  them,  surely  they  would  be  sentenced  to  some  hell 
more  dreadful  than  that  which  is  prepared  for  others. 

"  We  have  still  considerable  attention  to  religion.  The 
number  of  inquirers  is  upwanis  of  forty,  and  many  more 
are  serious.  We  had  hoped  for  hundreds,  ere  this ;  but 
God  keeps  us  waiting,  and  praying,  and  still  gives  a  spirit 
of  prayer." 

"  Portland,  Sept.  22,  1829. 

"  Mv   DEAREST  MoTHER, 

"  The  attention  to  religion  still  continues.  Last  com- 
munion we  admitted  eleven  to  the  ciiurch,  and  next  Sab- 
bath we  suali  admit  twelve  more.  The  appetite  for  hear- 
iUiT  seems  insatiable,  and  our  assemblies  are  more  crowd- 
ed than  ever.  Mi  riy  have  lately  joined  us.  However, 
the  e'ospel  proves  i-  savor  of  death  unto  death,  as  well  as 
of  life  unto  life,  i^iany  seem  to  be  awfully  hardened, 
and  many  severe  reflections  are  cast  upon  religion  and  its 
professors. 

"  After  telling  you  that  reliffion  thus  flourishes  among 
us,  I  am  ashamed  to  complaai ;  for  what  reason  of  com- 


EOWARn  PAYSON. 


193 


plaint  can  a  minister  have,  while  he  sees  the  cause  of 
Christ  triumphant  ?  Nor  do  I  complain  of  any  thing  ex- 
cept myself  Every  earthly  thing  is  embittered  to  me, 
and  the  enjoyments  of  religion  are  kept  far  above  my 
reach.  I  am  overwhelmed  by  one  wave  of  temptation 
ter  another.  My  bodily  powers  are  kept  in  such  a  con- 
tinual state  of  exhaustion,  and  my  nerves  are  so  weak, 
that  mole  hills  appear  to  be  mountains,  and  I  am  ready  to 
stumble  at  a  straw  ;  and  when  imaginary  evils  disappear, 
I  find  real  perplexities  and  difficulties  which  weigh  me 
down  in  the  dust.  I  know,  indeed,  that  all  these  things 
are  necessary  ;  and  when  I  am  left  in  my  own  possession, 
I  would  not  wish  to  have  my  burthen  lightened.  At  times 
too,  I  am  "  holpen  with  a  little  help,"  so  that,  though  cast 
down,  I  am  not  utterly  destroyed.  But  how  desperate, 
how  inconceivable  must  be  the  wickedness  of  that  heart, 
which  draws  down  such  sufferings  from  the  hand  of  the 
compassionate  Saviour,  and  requires  such  painful  reme- 
dies to  heal  it." 

"  Portland,  Nov.  1,  1809. 

"  My  dear  Sister, 

"  It  is  no  small  disappointment  to  me,  and  I  flatter  my- 
self that  it  will  be  some  disappointment  to  you,  that  I  am 
under  the  necessity  of  sending  this  inanimate  scroll,  to  see 
and  inquire  after  you,  instead  of  coming  myself,  as  I  ex- 
pected, and  partly  promised.  But  my  health  does  not  ab- 
solutely require  a  journey,  this  season  ;  and  my  engage- 
ments are  such,  that  I  know  not  how  to  be  absent  a  single 
day.  In  the  first  place,  the  situation  of  the  parish  requires 
my  presence.  The  people  still  have  a  hearing  ear,  but 
there  is  more  opposition  ;  more  attempts  to  mislead  young 
converts,  and  turn  aside  inquirers,  than  formerly  ;  and, 
therefore,  I  wish  to  be  with  them.  Besides,  the  neighboring 
niini.sters  are  stirred  up  to  more  diligence  and  attention. 
They  have  lately  adopted  the  custom  of  keeping  days  of 
fasting  and  prayer,  and  inviting  in  a  number  of  preachers, 
and  I  have  some  engagements  of  this  kind,  just  now,  which 
I  am  unwilling  to  leave.  We  have  already  had  three  days 
of  this  kind,  in  three  of  the  neighboring  towns,  and  hope 
to  extend  it  through  the  whole  association.  We  are  just 
establishing  a  Bible  Society,  also,  and  this  employs  con- 


194 


MEMOIR  OF 


siderable  time,  at  present ;  so  that,  with  these  and  other 
things,  which  require  attention,  I  am  too  much  engaged 
to  leave  home  ;  and  I  trust  you  will  not  suspect  my  affec- 
tion diminishes,  because  I,  at  this  time,  prefer  duty  to 
pleasure. 

"  My  hopes  respecting  ,  increase.    He  tells 

bis  people  some  solemn  truths  ;  and  a  lawyer  from  ******^ 
who  was  formerly  acquainted  with  him,  says  he  is  spoilt, 
and  that  though  he  used  to  be  a  good  rational  preacher, 
he  is  in  a  fair  way  to  become  an  enthusiast.  What  a  glo- 
rious instance  of  sovereign  mercy  it  would  be,  should  God 
bless  that  parish  with  a  faithful  minister  ! 

"  The  cause  of  evangelical  religion  is  certainly  gaining 
ground  in  this  eastern  country.  Mr.  J.  of  B.,  on  whom 
the  liberal  party  placed  great  reliance,  has  lately  come 
out  full  on  the  side  of  orthodoxy.  President  A.  was 
thought  to  be  wavering,  but  he  is  now  quite  decided  ;  and 

if  Mr.  does  not  disappomt  our  hopes,  I  think 

the  ******  ******  ^yju  ]Qge  all  hopes  of  liberalizing  the 
District  of  Maine.  Violent  and  systematic  attempts,  how- 
ever, are  making  here  in  opposition  to  truth.  Pamphlets 
are  circulated  to  prove  that  all  the  hard  texts  in  the  Bible 
refer  to  primitive  times  ;  and  the  new  Socinian  transla- 
tion of  the  New  Testament  threatens  to  produce  mischief ; 
but  while  the  enemy  comes  in  as  a  flood,  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  is  lifting  up  a  standard  against  him.  Within  two 
years,  five  orthodox  ministers  have  been  settled,  or  are 
about  settling,  in  this  Association,  which  includes  the 
county  of  Cumberland,  and  many  others  preach  very  dif- 
ferent doctrine  from  what  they  formerly  did." 

His  afflictive  melancholy  had  now  become  comparative- 
ly harmless  ;  for  though  it  did  not  cease  to  distress  him, 
its  tyrannical  power  was  broken,  and  it  much  less  fre- 
quently impeded  his  mental  efforts.  There  is  one  allu- 
sion, however,  to  this  mode  of  its  operation,  which  is  pe- 
culiarly characteristic — "  Was  employed  in  vain  attempts 
to  prepare  for  lecture.  Did  nothing  all  day,  but  learn  the 
old  lesson  over  again,  that  without  Christ  I  can  do  noth- 
ing. Were  I  not  the  dullest  of  all  scholars,  I  might  sure- 
ly spare  my  heavenly  Father  the  trouble  of  teaching  me 
this  lesson  again." 


BDVVAKD  I'AYSON. 


195 


In  his  frequent  seasons  of  illness  and  his  multiplied  pub- 
lic engagements,  he  saw  cause  of  danger,  that  his  private 
devotions  would  sulfer  interruption,  or  abatement.  To 
guard  against  such  an  evil,  appears  to  have  been  one  ob- 
ject of  the  following  resolutions,  which  were  adopted,  or 
renewed,  near  the  close  of  this  year. 

"  1.  I  will,  on  no  pretence  whatever,  omit  reading  the 
Scriptures  with  prayer,  morning  and  evening. 

2.  When  pn  cticable,  I  will  spend  one  day  in  every 
week  in  fasting  and  prayer. 

3.  I  will  allow  but  si.x  hours  for  sleep. 

4.  I  will  endeavor  to  redeem  the  time,  by  being  diligent 
and  fervent  in  business. 

5.  I  will  live  more  to  the  glory  of  God  than  I  have 
done. 

6.  I  will,  every  evening,  review  my  conduct  through 
the  day,  and  see  how  far  I  have  fulfilled  these  resolutions." 

To  the  peculiar  trials,  which  distinguished  this  year,  the 
merciful  Redeemer  provided  an  antidote,  in  the  spiritual 
blessings  which  he  bestowed.  Under  the  labors  of  hi.'^ 
servant  sinners  were  converted,  and  the  church  was  in- 
creased by  an  addition  of  forty-four  members. 


196 


MEMOlll  OF 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Permanency  and  strength  of  maternal  influence — Corres- 
pondence— Death-bed  anguish,  hoio  alleviated — Dis- 
graceful incident — Price  of  popularity — Reasons  of 
former  trials  developed — Letters,  dfc. 

The  reader  is  not  to  infer,  that  the  subject  of  this  nar- 
rative ceased  to  "  give  himself  continually  unto  prayer," 
because  the  daily  recorded  testimony  of  the  fact,  to  w4iich 
appeal  has  so  often  been  made,  is  less  frequently  introdu- 
ced. This  was  an  employment  of  which  he  seems  never 
to  have  grown  weary,  and  which  there  are  no  indications 
that  he  ever  relaxed.  He  '  dwelt  in  the  secret  place  of  the 
Most  High,  and  abode  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.' 
His  accumulated  burden  of  cares  and  sorrows  he  every 
day  brought  with  him  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  retired 
thence,  relieved  from  its  pressure,  or  strengthened  to  sus- 
tain it. 

'*  Dec  29. — Was  enabled  to  agonize  in  prayer  for  my- 
self and  people,  and  to  make  intercession  with  unutterable 
groanings.  My  heart  and  flesh  cried  out  for  the  living 
God.  Felt  very  strong  hope,  that  God  was  about  to  work 
wonders  among  us." 

How  well  his  mother  understood  his  character,  how  sa- 
gacious she  was  in  her  aims  at  his  heart — always  success- 
ful in  touching  the  chord,  that  would  be  sure  to  vibrate — 
in  a  word,  how  assiduous  and  valuable  a  comforter  she 
was,  is  apparent  from  his  answers  to  her  letters  : 

"  Portland,  Feb.  3,  1810. 

"  My  dear  Mother, 

"  I  do  '  bless  heaven,'  if  I  am  made  '  the  joy  of  my  pa«- 
rent's  heart  ;'  and  esteem  it  one  of  the  greatest  mercies, 
for  which  I  have  reason  to  be  thankful.    Just  before  I 


fel>\VAlfD  I'AYSON. 


197 


received  the  letter,  which  contained  this  consoling  assu- 
rance, I  was  wondering  what  such  a  poor,  miserable, 
worthless  wretch  was  ever  made  for;  and  why  I  should 

be  preserved  in  existence  Bui  it'  1  can  atford  any 

joy  to  my  parents,  or  to  anyone  else,  I  think  I  am  willing 
to  iive,  let  my  trials  be  ever  so  great  ;  and  I  bless  God, 
and  thank  you  for  sending  me  that  letter,  just  at  the  right 
time.  It  proved  a  very  seasonable  and  refreshing  cordial 
to  a  fainting  spirit.  But,  methinks,  I  hear  you  ask,  "  why 
do  you  talk  of  fainting,  when  you  have  so  much  reason  to 
rejoice  and  praise  (iod  for  his  goodness  ?" — I  faint,  be- 
cause I  tind  no  hdkrt,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  goodness,  to 
praise  him  for  it.  I  faint,  because,  while  I  feed  others,  I 
am  left  to  pine  in  hunger,  and  am  parched  with  thirst.  In 
proportion  as  my  labors  are  blessed  to  others,  my  sorrows 
and  sins  increase  ;  and,  though  1  am  assisted  in  keeping 
the  vineyard  of  others,  my  own  runs  to  waste.  I  cannot 
think  that  any  one,  but  a  minister,  knows  any  thing  of  a 
minister's  trials  ;  and  I  believe  Paul  had  a  peculiar  refer- 
ence to  them,  when  he  said — "  If  in  this  lileonly  we  have 

hope,  we  are  of  all  men  most  miserable." 

*       *       *  # 

"  The  attention  to  religion  continues  among  us,  and  has 
much  increased  within  a  few  weeks.  It  seems  to  be 
spreading  more  among  the  men.  There  are  some  favora- 
ble appearances  in  the  neighboring  towns.  Last  week, 
and  the  week  before,  and  this  week,  I  have  attended  fasts^ 
in  different  places,  which  have  been  observed,  with  prayer 
for  a  revival  of  religion  ;  and  am  engaged  to  attend  an- 
other, ne.xt  week. 

"  I  preached,  yesterday,  on  our  Saviour's  words  to  his 
disciples — "  All  power  is  given  to  me  in  heaven  and  in 
earth."  What  an  animating  assurance  to  his  people, 
when  they  have  a  strong  faith  to  take  hold  of  it." 

"  Fch.  8. — Was  favored  with  great  fervor  and  freedom 
at  the  throne  of  grace,  this  morning.  Longed  only  to  be 
employed  as  an  instrument  of  glorifying  Christ  ;  and  was 
willing  to  drink  of  his  cup,  and  to  be  baptised  with  his 
baptism,  if  I  might  have  a  double  portion  of  his  Spirit. 
In  the  afternoon  and  evening,  attended  conferences,  and 
was  grievously  disappointed  to  find  no  new  inquirers  " 
17* 


198 


MEMOIR*  OF 


"  April  17,  1810. 

*'  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  I  have  just  received  your  affectionate  letter,  and  thank 
you  most  sincerely  for  the  maternal  love  which  breathes 
in  every  line.  God  grant  that  I  may  be  made  worthy  of 
all  the  proofs  of  parental  affection,  with  which  I  am  mer- 
cifully favored.  If  I  derive  any  pleasure  from  the  success, 
with  which  our  gracious  Master  is  pleased  to  crown  my 
labors  in  the  ministry,  it,  in  a  great  measure,  arises  from 
the  happiness,  which  I  know  this  success  gives  my  friends 
at  home.  Next  to  glorifying  God,  by  doing  good  to  man- 
kind, it  is  my  chief  desire  to  be  made  the  means  of  pro- 
moting your  happiness. 

*'  My  situation  is  now  as  agreeable  as  I  ever  expect  it 
will  be  on  earth  ;  and  I  shall  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  change 
it.  I  now  hear  none  but  religious  conversation  ;  every 
day  seems  like  a  Sabbath,  and  we  have  a  little  image  of 
heaven  upon  earth.  You  wiil,  I  know,  join  with  me  in 
blessing  our  bounteous  Benefactor  for  this  fresh  instance 
of  his  goodness. 

"  I  rejoice,  most  sincerely  rejoice  with  you,  and 
especially  with  my  dear  father,  in  the  hopeful  appearances 
which  attend  his  labors.  He  has  long  been  going  forth 
weeping,  bearing  precious  seed.  I  hope  he  will  now  be 
enabled  to  come  again  rejoicing,  bringing  with  him  the 
sheaves  of  an  abundant  harve.st.  I  still  feel  exceedingly 
anxious  respecting  his  health,  but  must  leave  it  with  God. 

"  My  own  health  continues  very  much  the  same  ;  rath- 
or  better  of  late,  if  any  different.  I  do  not  expect  it  will 
be  restored,  till  the  attention  to  religion  ceases  ;  for  it  does 
not  answer  for  me,  to  have  too  many  blessings  at  once. 

"  We  are  still  favored  with  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of 
grace,  though  in  a  less  degree  than  formerly.  Appearan- 
ces, however,  begin  again  to  look  more  encouraging.  The 
young  converts  who  have  made  a  profession,  with  a  very 
few  exceptions,  bid  fair  to  do  honor  to  the  cause.  Some 
of  them,  especially,  advance  very  rapidly  ;  and  the  mouths 
of  opposers,  who  seek  occasion  to  blaspheme,  are  stopped. 
The  congregation,  and  especially  the  church  continue  af- 


EnWARD  PAYSON. 


199 


fectionate  as  ever.    In  short,  I  am  a  wonder  to  myself, 

and  can  scarcely  believe,  what  1  daily  see  ol'  the  goodness 
of  God.  You  will  naturally  conclude,  however,  that  in- 
ward trials  will  not  be  wanting,  where  outward  comlorts 
are  so  multiplied.  I  thought,  long  since,  that  I  had  en- 
dured every  thing  horrible  and  dreadful,  that  was  ever 
felt,  heard  of,  or  conceived  ;  but  1  hnd,  that  the  depths 
of  Satan,  and  of  a  heart  desperately  wicked,  are  not  so 
easily  fathomed.  These  unfathomable  depths,  however, 
only  serve  to  show  me  more  clearly  the  inhnite  heights 
and  depths  of  Christ's  love  ;  and  I  know  that  he,  who  de- 
livered me  out  of  the  paw  of  the  lion  and  the  bear,  will  de- 
liver me  from  every  foe,  however  gigantic.  It  is  but  a 
moment,  my  mother,  and  we  shall  be  singing  the  song  of 
redeeming  love  together  belbre  the  throne.  Yes,  our  sal- 
vation is  nearer,  than  when  we  believed.  Every  moment 
it  comes  hastening  on  ;  and,  to-morrow,  it  will  be  here. 
Yes,  to-morrow,  we  shall  be  as  the  angels  of  God.  O  for 
patience  to  wait  for  the  glory  which  will  be  revealed,  and 
to  endure  the  previous  light  afflictions,  which  continue  but 
for  a  moment." 

The  affectionate  minister  has  joys  peculiar  to  himself, 
or  rather  to  his  office  ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  his 
trials.  He  is  the  father  of  his  flock,  so  far  as  the  relation 
supposes  a  community  of  feeling  in  their  happiness  and 
misery.  Inconsiderate  transgressors  know  little  of  the 
anguish  which  they  bring  upon  the  pastor,  who  warns  and 
entreats  them  to  seek  "  the  good  and  right  way  ;"  and 
they  undervalue  his  counsels  and  his  prayers,  till  roused 
by  some  affecting  providence,  or  brought  down  to  the  very 
gate  of  death,  and  then  there  is  nothing  on  earth,  which 
they  so  much  covet.  The  case  mentioned  below  is,  per- 
haps, a  marked  one  ;  and  yet  what  faithful  minister  could 
not  name  instances,  which  form  no  distant  parallels  to 
this? 

"  3Iay  12. — Was  permitted  to  draw  near  to  God  with 
joy  and  confidence.  O,  how  astonishing  is  his  goodness  ! 
A  little  while  since,  I  thought  it  impossible  I  should  ever 
be  delivered  from  the  grasp  of  sin.  But  he  has  brought  me 
up  from  the  horrible  pit,  and  miry  clay,  and  set  my  feet 


-200 


MEWOIH  OF 


upon  a  rock,  and  put  a  new  song  into  my  mouth,  even 
praise  unto  liis  nauie. — Had  scarcely  tciUen  asleep,  when 
I  was  called  up,  to  visit  a  dying  woman.  Found  her  in 
all  the  agonies  ot"  despair,  and  her  dreadful  shrieks  pierced 
my  very  soul,  and  almost  curdled  my  blood  with  horror. 
Prayed,  in  an  agony  of  spirit,  that  God  would  snatch  her 
as  a  brand  from  the  burning.  After  prayer,  she  was  more 
quiet,  and  sunk  into  an  imperfect  sleep.  Came  away, 
broken  down  with  a  load  of  anguish. 

"  May  13. — Sabbath.  Rose  languid,  and  exhausted  in 
body  and  mind.  The  shrieks  of  the  dying  woman  rang 
in  my  ears  incessantly.  Between  meetings,  was  called  to 
visit  her  again.  Found  her  composed  and  happy,  rejoicing 
in  the  Lord,  and  apparently  resigned,  to  live  or  die.  On 
examination,  found  reason  to  believe,  that  she  was  really 
reconciled  to  God,  and  yet  could  hardly  believe  it.  Could 
scarcely  look  upon  it  as  an  answer  to  prayer,  and  still 
knew  not  how  to  avoid  considering  it  as  such. 

"  May  \7. — Was  much  enlivened,  to-day,  by  hearing 
that  a  remarkable  spirit  of  prayer  was  poured  out,  last 
evening,  at  meeting.  Could  not  but  hope,  that  the  Lord 
was  about  to  take  the  work  into  his  own  hands.  In  the 
evening,  attended  the  conference  for  inquirers.  Was  still 
more  encouraged  by  hearing,  that  the  Spirit  was  again  re- 
markably present  at  a  prayer-meeting  of  the  church,  this 
evening.  Felt  alincst  confident,  that  the  Lord  was  about 
to  make  bare  his  arm,  in  a  wonderful  manner.  Was  so 
much  animated  and  enlivened  by  this  hope,  that  I  could 
scarcely  recover  sufficient  tranquillity  of  mind  to  pray  that 
my  hopes  might  not  be  disappointed. 

"  3Iay  24. — Was  excessively  feeble,  all  day.  In  the 
afternoon  and  evening,  attended  the  conference  for  in- 
quirers, but  found  only  one.  Was,  at  first,  discouraged  ; 
but  afterwards  reflected,  that  it  is  God's  method  to  bring 
us  low,  before  he  raises  us." 

"Friday  Eve.  June  15. 

"My  dearest  Mother, 

"  I  arrived  here,  this  afternoon,  after  an  agreeable  ride, 
and  found  a  house  of  mourning  waiting  fbr  me.  The 
young  lady,  I  mentioned,  died  last  Wednesday  morning. 
The  grief  of  the  family   and  my  own  feelings,  you  can 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


201 


better  conceive,  than  I  describe.  The  pious  members, 
however  are  wonderfully  supported,  so  that  they  are  an 
astonishment  to  themselves.  The  funeral  is  to  be  to- 
morrow, having  been  delayed  one  day  for  my  return. 

"  Pray  for  me. — My  friends,  at  home,  are  much  endear- 
ed to  me  by  their  kindness,  during  my  late  visit.  I  al- 
ways feel  vexed  at  myself,  after  coming  away,  that  I  did 
not  say  more  on  that  subject,  and  seem  more  sensible  of 
their  goodness,  while  I  was  with  them.  But,  some  how 
«r  other,  it  is  contrary  to  my  nature,  to  tell  people  how 
much  I  love  and  thank  them." 

"  July  19,  1810. 

  "  Grief  has  a  wonderful  efficacy,  as  you  observe, 

in  softening  the  heart,  and  suffering  binds  us  to  fellow- 
sufferers,  so  that  I  cannot  tell  what  may  be  the  event. 

"  I  have  much  new  cause  for  gratitude,  since  1  left 

home.    The  minister  at  ,  a  smooth,  liberal  preacher, 

has  been  long  intemperate,  and  lately  fell  from  his  horse 
into  a  slough,  on  his  way  to  meeting.  He  was,  on  this, 
dismissed  ;  and  as  he  was  not  the  first  bad  minister,  this 
people  had  been  cursed  with,  they  have  contracted  a 
strong  prejudice  against  the  Congregational  clergy.  They, 
however,  wrote  to  me  to  come  and  preach  for  them  one 
Sabbath,  if  I  could,  and  I  accordingly  went.  I  was  treat- 
ed with  great  kindness,  had  a  very  crowded,  attentive, 
and  solemn  assembly  ;  and  from  letters  since  received  in 
town,  it  appears  that  not  a  few  were  deeply  affected,  and 
convinced  of  sin.  They  are  exceedingly  desirous,  that 
I  should  come  again  ;  and  unless  they  succeed  in  getting 
a  candidate  soon,  I  shall  go.  They  are  determined  to 
have  none  come,  who  are  not  orthodox.  If  I  had  health, 
and  strength,  I  might  apparently  do  much  good,  by  thus 
preaching  in  different  places." 

The  youthful  reader,  especially  if  he  be  a  candidate 
for  the  ministry,  will  do  well  to  pause  over  the  following 
instructive  paragraph  : 

"  As  you  suspect,  popularity  costs  me  dear ;  and  did  it 
not  afford  mc  the  means  of  being  more  extensively  useful, 
I  should  heartily  pray  to  be  delivered  from  it,  as  the  great- 


202 


MF.MOIR  OF 


est  of  all  curses.  Since  the  novelty  has  worn  off,  it  af- 
fords me  no  pleasure  ;  and  yet  I  am  continually  wishing 
for  more,  tiiough  it  feeds  nothing  but  pride.  If  we  had 
no  pride,  I  believe  applause  would  give  us'  no  pleasure. 
But  no  one  can  conceive  how  dearly  it  is  purchased  ;  what 
unspeakably  dreadtbl  teniptations,  buifetings,  and  work- 
ings of  depravity,  are  necessary  to  counteract  the  perni- 
cious effects  of  this  poison.  It  is,  indeed,  the  tirst  and 
last  prayer,  which  I  wish  ray  friends  to  offer  up  for  me, 
that  I  may  be  kept  humble  ;  and  if  your  too  great  and 
undeserved  affection  for  me  will  exert  itself  in  this  way — 
that  is,  in  praying  for  me — it  may  preserve  your  gourd 
from  the  blast  and  the  worm. 

"  Mr.  R.  remains  very  much  the  same.  His  physicians 
give  but  faint  hopes  of  his  recovery.  Why  am  not  I  cut 
down,  and  he  spared?  O,  I  am  tired  of  receiving  innu- 
merable mercies  without  gratitude,  and  of  committing  in- 
numerable sins  without  suitaole  sorrow  That  word, 

rest,  grows  exceedingly  sweet  to  me.  O,  "  when  shall  I 
fly  away,  and  be  at  rest !" 

"  The  work  still  goes  on.    Dr.  's  church  have,  in 

some  measure,  caught  the  flame,  and  compelled  their 
ministers,  reluctantly,  I  believe,  to  set  up  conterences. 
They  have  said  so  much  against  evening  meetings,  that  it 
is  hard  now  to  set  them  up.  But  they  are  obliged  to  do 
it ;  and,  to  use  the  language  of  the  world,  the  town  is  in 
danger  of  growing  madder  than  ever." 

Confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  divine  prov- 
idence, usually  reconciles  the  Christian  to  trials,  and  sus- 
tains him  under  the  occurrence  of  events,  which,  at  the 
time,  are  wholly  inexplicable.  He  rests  on  the  kind  as- 
surance of  his  Redeemer,  "  What  thou  knowest  not  now, 
thou  shall  know  hereafter."  And  though  this  promise  re- 
fers him  to  a  period  beyond  the  confines  of  mortality,  when 
the  light  of  heaven  shall  beam  on  the  intricacies  of  Prov- 
idence, and  put  to  fliglit  the  darkness  which  envelopes 
them,  yet  even  in  the  present  world  he  is  often  surprised 
with  discoveries  of  the  design  and  tendency  of  such  dis- 
pensations, which  render  him  grateful  for  them,  and  cause 
hiin  to  bless  God,  who  made  them  a  part  of  his  paternal 
discipline.    In  retracing  his  path  through  life,  he  sees  his 


EDWAUn  PAYSON 


203 


most  dreaded  calamities  connected  with  his  choicest  mer- 
cies, his  lowest  depression  with  his  highest  elevation — and 
so  connected,  that  without  the  former,  the  latter  would 
not  have  been.  That  which  threatened  the  destruction 
of  his  ability  to  do  good,  he  finds  to  be  his  highest  quali- 
fication  for  usefulness. 

Such  are  the  developements,  which  already  begin  to  ap- 
pear in  the  history  of  this  afflicted  and  beloved  man. 
Henceforth,  the  reader  will  revert  to  the  dark  shades  of 
the  past  with  more  of  complacency,  and  cease  to  look 
even  upon  his  seasons  of  heart-rending  spiritual  anguish, 
as  worse  than  blank  portions  of  existence.  He  sutfered, 
not  for  himself  alone  ;  the  church  of  the  Redeemer  wag 
indirectly,  yet  largely  benefitted  by  what  he  endured  ; 
and  many  of  her  members  were,  probably,  prevented  from 
making  shipwreck  of  faith,  and  sinking  into  irrecoverable 
despondency,  in  consequence  of  having  for  a  guide  and 
coun.sellor,  one  who  had  narrowly  escaped  a  similar  cat- 
astrophe. The  amouHt  of  sulfering,  which  his  own  men- 
tal agony  was  thus  the  occasion  of  preventing,  will  not  be 
known,  till  the  great  day.  But  long  before  he  exchan- 
ged his  armor  for  the  victor's  crown,  he  could  appropriate 
the  language  of  Paul — /  now  rejoice  in  my  sufferings  for 
you,  and  Jill  up  that  which  is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of 
Christ  in  my  jlesh,for  his  body's  sake,  which  is  the  church. 

"  Portland,  Aug.  8,  1810. 

"  My  dearest  Sister, 

"  I  have  nothing  interesting  to  write,  and  my  spirits  are 
so  completely  jaded  and  exhausted,  that  they  will  not  bear 
the  fatigue  of  invention.  I  cannot  spiritualize,  nor  mor- 
alize, but  must  confine  myself  to  dull  narration  ;  and, 
what  is  still  worse,  have  nothing  to  narrate.  I  have,  in- 
deed, one  piece  of  good  news,  though  you  have,  probably, 
heard  of  it  ere  this.  Mr.  R.  is  better,  and  there  are  great 
hopes  of  his  recovery.  His  complaints,  I  believe,  are  pre- 
cisely similar  to  mine. 

"  We  go  on  here  pretty  much  as  usual.  Satan  is  ex- 
tremely busy  with  Christians,  and  a  large  proportion  of 
our  church  have  been,  and  still  are,  exercised  with  the 
most  dreadful  and  distressing  temptations.  I  now  under- 
stand the  reason  of  ray  dreadful  trials  at  Marlborough. 


204 


MEMOIR  OF 


Had  it  not  been  for  them,  I  should  have  been  still  more 
unfit  for  my  present  situation,  than  I  am  at  present.  Often 
should  I  be  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  say,  or  think,  had  not 
a  wise  and  gracious  Master  foreseen  what  I  should  need, 
and  taken  measures  accordingly. 

He  has  been  pleased,  of  late,  to  bless  my  endeavors  to 
comfort  his  tempted  and  distressed  people  with  wonderful 
success.  I  often  stand  astonished  at  it  myself,  and  seem 
to  look  upon  it  as  a  greater  honor  and  favor,  than  even 
to  be  owned  in  the  conversion  of  sinners.  If  I  can 
be  permitted  to  do  this,  I  seem  willing  to  stay  and  suffer 
every  thing,  which  he  sees  fit  to  lay  upon  me.  But  I 
tremble  at  what  may  be  the  consequence.  Those,  who 
find  my  endeavors  blessed  to  comfort  them,  of  course  grow 
more  and  more  affectionate  ;  and  I  fear,  lest  they  prove 
guilty  of  creature-idolatry,  and  thus  provoke  God  to  with- 
er their  gourd.  I  have  warned  them  of  the  danger  of  this 
in  private  ;  and  have,  at  last,  openly  preached  against  it ; 
but  God  does  not  seem  to  bless  it  to  their  conviction,  and, 
I  fear,  we  shall  both  smart  for  it.  He  is  a  jealous  God, 
and  if  his  people  put  a  servant  in  his  place,  woe  be  to  the 
poor  creature  who  is  thus  set  up  against  him.  Pray  for 
me,  therefore,  and  pray  for  my  people.  When  I  ask  them 
to  pray  for  me,  they  only  smile,  and  reply,  that  I  need  not 
their  prayers.  In  short,  we  are  all  young  here,  and  have 
little  experience  ;  and  if  God  does  not  prevent,  we  shall 
rush  into  all  manner  of  extravagance. 

Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have  been  to  preach  at  a  place 
near  this,  where  they  have  been  stupid  almost  to  a  proverb. 
But  I  hear  now  that  conference  meetings  are  set  up  ;  the 
minister  is  roused,  and  many  are  earnestly  inquiring  what 
they  shall  do. 

Another  minister,  who  lives  about  miles  from  this, 

has  lately  rode  into  town,  week  after  week,  to  attend  our 
lectures.  He  told  his  people,  that,  though  he  had  to  hire 
a  horse,  yet  he  was  always  amply  repaid.  He  has  been 
very  lax,  but  a  great  alteration  has  taken  place  in  his 
preaching  and  conduct,  and  there  is  considerable  attention 
excited  among  his  people. 

After  all  this,  you  will  not  wonder  to  hear  that  I  am 
borne  down  with  heavy  burdens  ;  pressed  out  of  strength, 
above  measure,  so  as,  at  times,  to  despair  even  of  life.  All 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


205 


this  is  necessary,  absolutely  necessary ;  and  I  desire  to 
consider  it  as  a  mercy,  but  it  is  iiard,  very  hard  to  bear. 
If  any  one  asks  to  be  made  a  successi'iil  ininiotsr,  he  knows 
not  what  he  asks  ;  and  it  becomes  him  to  consider,  wheth- 
er he  can  drink  deeply  of  Christ's  bitter  cup,  and  be  bap- 
tised with  his  baptism.  If  we  could  learn,  indeed,  to  give 
all  the  glory  to  God,  and  keep  only  the  s.n  and  imper- 
fections to  ourselves,  we  might  be  spared  these  trials. 
And  one  would  think  this  easy  enough.  One  would  think 
that  Jonah  could  hardly  be  proud  of  his  success  among 
the  Ninevites  ;  and  we  have,  if  pose  ihle,  less  reason  to  be 
proud  than  he.  But  pride  will  live  and  thrive,  without 
reason,  and  in  despite  of  every  reason  to  tlie  contrary." 

Portland,  Sept.  20,  1810. 

"  My  dear  Sister, 

"  I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  your  letter,  which  I 
have  just  received  ;  but  I  do  not  thank  you  at  all  for  the 
reason  which  you  assign,  for  not  writing  more  frequently. 
It  seems,  forsooth,  that  I  am  so  wonderfully  wise  and  good, 
that  you  dare  not  write  me.  My  dear  sister,  this  is  little 
better  than  downright  mockery.  Not  that  I  suspect  you 
of  a  design  to  mock  me  ;  but  your  commendations,  how- 
ever sincere,  are  cutting,  very  cutting,  and  I  beg  of  you 
to  wound  me  no  more  with  them.  Go,  and  congratulate 
a  wretch  on  the  rack,  upon  the  happiness  which  he  en- 
joys. Tell  a  beggar  of  his  riches,  an  illiterate  peasant  of 
his  learning,  or  a  deformed  cripple  of  his  strength  and 
beauty  ,  but  mock  not  a  vile,  stupid  sinner,  ready  to  sink 
under  an  almost  insupportable  weight  of  guilt  and  iniqui- 
ty, with  commendations  of  his  goodness  ;  or  a  blind  ignor- 
ant creature,  with  compliments  upon  his  wisdom  and 
knortledge.  You  are  ready,  perhaps,  to  look  upon  my 
situation  as  enviable  ;  but  if  you  knew  what  I  suffer  in  a 
single  day,  you  would  fall  down  on  your  knees  and  bless 
God  that  you  are  not  a  minister.  Not  that  I  consider  it 
as  a  small  favor  to  be  placed  in  this  sacred  office,  and  hon- 
ored with  some  degree  of  acceptance  and  success.  I 
know  it  is  a  post,  which  an  angel  might  envy  ,  and  I  can 
never,  to  all  eternity,  bless  God  sufficiently  for  putting  me 
into  it,  and  supporting  me  under  the  pressure  of  its  duties. 
I  would  not  part  with  the  privilege  of  preaching  Christ 
18 


20G 


IIKMOIK  OF 


crucified  to  perishing  sinners,  and  of  administering  to  the 
consolation  of  God's  afflicted  people,  to  be  made  monarch 
of  tiie  world.  But  O,  the  agonies,  the  unutterable  incon- 
ceivable agonies,  which  must  be  endured  by  those  who 
attempt  with  such  a  heart  as  mine,  to  perform  this  work. 
I  shudder,  with  horror,  to  think  of  the  scenes  through 
which  I  have  been  obliged  to  pass  ;  and  shrink  back  from 
those  through  which  I  must  yet  pass,  before  I  reach  the 
rest  prepared  for  the  people  of  God.  It  is,  however,  some 
comfort,  that  the  time,  when  I  shall  quit  this  scene  of  trial, 
cannot  be  far  distant.  Nature  cannot  long  hold  out  under 
what  I  endure ;  and  I  trust  that,  ere  many  years,  1  shall 
be  safe  in  the  grave,  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troub- 
ling, and  the  weary  are  at  rest.  If,  meanwhile,  I  may  be 
preserved  from  insanity,  and  from  wounding  the  cause  of 
Christ,  by  falling  into  open  wickedness,  it  is  all  I  ask  for  ; 
and  perhaps  more  than  1  have  any  reason  to  e.vpect.  It  is 
a  dreadful  thought,  that  no  Christian  on  eartli,  however 
holy,  humble,  and  watchful  he  may  at  present  be,  has  any 
security  against  falling  into  open  sin,  before  he  dies. 
As  to  resolving  that  we  will  not  thus  fall,  it  avails  nothing. 
As  well  might  a  stone  resolve  not  to  fall,  when  the  power 
which  upheld  it  is  removed.  You  will,  perhaps,  say,  we 
may  hope  that  God  will  uphold  us,  for  the  sake  of  his 
cause.  So  David  might  have  hoped.  It  seemed  very 
important  that  he  should  be  preserved  ;  and  yet  how  he 
fell.  And  what  reason,  then,  have  I  to  hope  that  I  shall 
not  fall  ?  And  if  I  should — it  would  injure  the  cause  of 
religion  infinitely  more,  than  all  my  labors  will  ever  ad- 
vance it." 

The  following  letter  is  without  date,  but  cannot  be  ma- 
terially out  of  its  place. 

"  My  health  remains  much  the  same. — I  have  enjoyed 
more  in  religion,  since  my  last  journey  to  Rindge,  than 
during  my  whole  ministry  before.  My  distressing  exer- 
cises have  vanished,  I  sometimes  hope,  never  to  return  ; 
abd  iny  thoughts  are  so  unusually  drawn  upward,  that  I 
cannot  avoid  concluding,  that  my  stay  on  earth  is  to  be  but 
short.  My  church  are  many  of  their,  of  the  same  opinion. 
They  tell  me,  they  are  certain  that  I  shall  not  continue 


EDWARD  VAYSON. 


207 


with  them  long.  Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to  wish,  that 
my  expectations  may  soon  be  realized.  At  others,  I  wish 
to  stay  a  little  longer,  and  tell  sinners  what  a  precious  Sa- 
viour Jesus  is.  But  the  Lord's  will  be  done.  Welcome 
life,  welcome  death,  welcome  any  thing  from  his  hand. 
The  world,  O,  what  a  bubble — what  a  trifle  it  is.  Friends 
are  nothing,  fame  is  nothing,  health  is  nothing,  life  is 
nothing  ;  Jesus,  Jesus  is  all.  O,  what  will  it  be  to  spend 
an  eternity  in  seeing  and  praising  Jesus  !  To  see  him  as 
he  is ;  to  be  satistied  with  his  likeness  !  O,  I  long,  I  pant, 
I  faint  with  desire  to  be  singing,  worthy  is  the  Lamb  ;  to 
be  extolling  the  riches  of  sovereign  grace,  to  be  casting 
the  crown  at  the  feet  of  Christ.  And  why  may  we  not  do 
all  this  on  earth  ?  My  dearest  sister,  we  may  do  it,  if  it  is 
not  our  own  fault.  Pause  a  moment,  and  try  to  conceive 
how  they  feel,  and  what  they  are  this  moment  doing  in 
heaven.  Pause  and  reflect,  till  you  hear  their  songs,  and 
feel  your  heart  glow  with  their  love.  Then,  shout  aloud, 
"  worthy  is  the  Lamb!  for  thou  wast  slain  and  hast  re- 
deemed me  by  thy  blood.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb,  who  was 
slain,  to  receive  glory,  and  blessing,  and  honor  and  pow- 
er."   But  I  must  desist. 

"  Remember  me  most  affectionately  to  our  dear  Parents, 
and  I  hope  that  they  and  you  are  willing  that  I  should  go 
to  heaven  first." 

"Portland,  Dec.  10,  1810. 

"  Mv   DEAREST  MoTHER, 

"  Since  my  return,  it  has  pleased  my  adorable  Saviour, 
in  his  sovereign  mercy,  to  give  me  clearer  and  more  trans- 
porting views  of  himself,  than  I  liaveever  before  enjo}ed  ; 
and  I  have  no  leisure  or  thoughts  to  bestow  on  any  thing 
else.  He  has  brought  me  up  out  of  the  horrible  pit,  whore 
I  have  so  long  been  sinking,  and  put  a  new  song  in  my 
mouth  ;  and  O,  that  all  creation  would  join  with  me  in 
singing  his  praises.  I  have  sometimes  heard  of  spells  and 
charms  to  excite  love  ;  and  have  wished  for  them,  when  a 
boy,  that  I  might  cause  others  to  love  me.  But  how  much 
more  do  I  now  wish  for  some  charm,  which  should  lead  men 
to  love  the  Saviour  !  What  would  I  not  give  for  the  pow- 
er to  make  sinners  love  him  ;  for  the  faculty  of  describing 
his  beauties  and  glories,  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  excite 


SOS 


MEMOIR  OF 


warmer  affections  towards  him  in  the  hearts  of  Christians. 
Coald  I  paint  a  true  likeness  of  him,  methinks  I  should 
rejoice  to  iiold  it  up  to  the  view  and  admiration  of  all  cre- 
ation, and  be  hid  behind  it  forever.  It  would  be  heaven 
enough  to  hear  him  prai.-ed  and  adored,  though  no  one 
should  know  or  care  about  insignificant  me.  But  I  can- 
not paiut  him  ;  1  cannot  describe  him  ;  I  cannot  make 
omers  1  jve  him  ;  nay,  I  cannot  love  him  a  thousandtli  part 
so  lauch  as  I  ought  myself  I  faint,  I  sink  under  the 
weight  of  infinite,  insupportable  obligations.  O,  ibr  an 
au.fel's  tongue  ;  O,  for  the  tongues  of  ten  thousand  an- 
gels, to  souiiJ  his  praises.  I  would  fain  do  something  for 
hira,  bit  I  can  do  nothing  :  I  cannot  even  attempt  to  do 
any  thing  witiiout  his  grace,  and  the  more  I  am  enabled 
to  d  )  in  iiis  service  so  much  the  more  is  the  load  of  obli- 
gaiioii  increased.  O,  t-iat  God,  who  alone  is  able,  would 
gionty  his  Son.  This  at  present,  is  all  my  salvation,  and 
all  my  desire,  that  Christ  may  be  glorified.  For  this  rea- 
son, I  long  and  pray  for  a  revival.  I  long  that  the  blessed 
Jesus  should  receive  some  more  suitable  returns  for  his 
wondrous  love  to  our  ruined  race.  We  are  hoping  that 
this  will  be  the  case  here.  I  hope  the  church  begin  to 
awake  and  pray  more  earnestly  than  ever,  and  that  we 
shall  yet  see  hundreds  here  praising  the  ever  blessed  Re- 
deemer. It  seems  of  no  consequence  what  becomes  of 
me.  It  seems  of  no  consequence  what  becomes  of  sinners, 
comparatively  speaking.  But,  O,  it  is  of  infinite  conse- 
quence that  Ciirist  shovild  be  glorified.  My  dearest  moth- 
er, do  strive  to  love  him  more  than  ever.  Do  strive  to 
make  others  love  him.  O,  if  it  was  not  for  a  hope  of  do- 
ing something  for  his  glory,  how  could  we  be  content  to 
live  a  single  hour  ab.sent  from  his  presence  above. 

"  I  shall  not  wonder  if  you  think  me  mad.  \have  been 
mad,  and  am  just  beginning  to  see  my  madness.  O,  how 
little  zeal,  how  little  love,  have  I  manifested.  How  mad- 
ly have  I  misimproved  my  time,  and  talents.  How  wretch- 
edly neglected  the  all  important  work,  to  which  I  am  call- 
ed !  How  ungratefully  requited  the  best  of  Saviours  I 
How  often  have  I  called  his  love  and  faithfulness  in  ques- 
tion, at  the  very  time  he  was  taking  the  best  possible  mea- 
sures to  promote  my  happiness.  S'ow  he  returns  to  hum- 
ble me  and  sbarae  me  for  my  folly  and  ingratitude.    O,  I 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


•209 


know  not  how  to  bear  this  astonishing,  overwhelming 
goodness.  Methinks  I  could  bear  his  anger,  but  his  love 
cuts  me  to  the  heart.  O,  that  I  may  be  dumb,  and  not 
open  my  mouth  any  more,  since  he  is  pacified  towards  me 
for  all  that  I  have  done.  O,  that  for  the  remainder  of 
life,  I  could  hear  of  nothing,  think  of  nothing,  speak  of 
nothing,  but  the  wonders  of  his  person,  his  character  and 
redeeming  love.  But  unless  he  prevents  it,  I  shall  wan- 
der again,  and  act  over  not  only  once,  but  often,  all  my 
past  sins.  It  seems  now  infinitely  better  to  die,  than  to 
be  guilty  of  this;  but  he  knows,  and  will  do  what  is  best." 

"  Dec.  16.  Sabbath.  This  day  completes  three  years 
since  my  ordination.  What  a  miserable,  unprofitable  ser- 
vant have  I  been  !  In  the  afternoon,  preached,  with  much 
difficulty,  from  Ezekiel  33  :  7 — 9.  Was  much  affected, 
and  my  hearers  appeared  scarcely  less  so.  Came  home 
excessively  fatigued,  but  rejoicing  in  God." 

This  year,  forty-two  souls  were  gathered  into  the  church 


18* 


210 


MEMOIR  OP 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Holy  aspirations — gratitude  to  the  Saviour — multiplied 
labors — Novel  family  scene — Danger  averted — "  Curi- 
ous frame" — -flattery  deprecated. — His  marriage — Be- 
comes sole  pastor  of  the  church — Retrospect  of  the  year, 

"  Dec.  17,  1810. — I  now  commence  the  fourth  year  of 
my  ministry.  Whether  I  shall  live  to  finish  it,  God  only 
knows.  O,  that  it  may  be  spent  to  better  purpose,  than 
those,  which  are  passed. 

"  Dec.  29. — Felt  the  blessed  effects  of  casting  all  my 
cares  upon  him  whocareth  for  me.  In  family  prayer,  was 
most  unusually  drawn  out  towards  God,  and  felt  as  much 
like  an  inhabitant  of  heaven,  as  I  ever  expect  to  feel  here. 
All  earthly  objects  were  swallowed  up  ;  self  appeared  to 
be  nothing,  and  God  to  be  all  in  all.  Felt  as  if  my  time 
on  earth  would  be  short.  I  was  in  a  strait  betwixt  two, 
having  a  desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ,  and  yet  wish- 
ing to  stay,  that  I  might  tell  others  what  a  precious  Sa- 
viour he  is.  But  the  Lord's  will  be  done.  Welcome  any 
thing,  which  he  pleases  to  send. 

"  Dec.  SI. — Spent  the  day  in  visiting.  In  the  evening 
met  a  number  of  Christian  friends,  and  had  a  sweet  season 
in  conversing  upon  heaven.  Our  hearts  seemed  to  burn 
within  us,  and  it  was  a  little  foretaste  of  heaven." 

These  quotations  furnish  pretty  fair  specimens  of  his 
religious  feelings  for  several  months  ;  excepting  those  in- 
tervals, when  he  was  greatly  reduced  and  disheartened  by 
sickness.  On  emerging  from  the  darkness  of  such  a  sea- 
son, he  writes  : 

"Jan.  10,  1811. — This  morning,  God  was  pleased  to 
return,  and  lift  me  out  of  the  dust.  The  great  comforts 
with  which  I  was  favored,  some  time  since,  rendered  me 
proud  ;  and  I  needed  a  season  of  darkness  to  humble  me. 
Had  much  freedom,  and  some  brokenness  of  heart,  this 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


2tl 


morning,  in  secret  and  family  prayer,  and  some  ability  to 
plead  with  God  not  to  forsake  us.  O,  how  sovereign  and 
free  is  his  grace  !" 

Under  the  same  date,  he  writes  to  his  mother  : 

"  Last  Sabbath  was  communion  with  us.  I  preached 
from  Zech.  III.  2.  Is  not  this  a  brand  plucked  out  oj  the 
Jire?  What  a  just  and  striking  description  of  every  re- 
deemed sinner  !  and  what  a  glorious  idea  does  it  afford  us 
of  the  work  of  redemption  !  To  snatch  a  smoking  brand 
from  eternal  burnings,  and  plant  it  among  the  stars  in  the 
firmament  of  heaven,  there  to  shine  like  the  sun  forever — 
O,  what  a  glorious  work  is  this  !  a  work  worthy  of  God  ; 
a  work,  which  none  but  God  could  perform.  Such  a  brand 
am  I.  A  brand,  yet  smoking  with  the  half  extinguished 
fires  of  sin  ;  a  brand,  scorched  and  blackened  by  the  flames 
of  hell.  What  then  do  I  owe  to  him,  who  entered  the 
furnace  of  divine  wrath,  that  he  might  bring  me  out !  who 
spread  himself  over  me  as  a  shield  from  that  fiery  storm, 
which  would  have  set  me  forth  an  example,  like  Sodom, 
suffering  the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire. 

"  I  have  no  heart  to  speak  or  write  about  any  thing  but 
Jesns  ;  and  yet  I  have  little  patience  to  write  about  him 
in  our  miserably  defective  language.  O,  for  a  language 
suitable  to  speak  his  praises,  and  describe  his  glory  and 
beauty  !  But  they  cannot  be  described — they  caimot  be 
conceived  ,  for  "  no  man  knoweth  the  Son,  but  the  Father." 
What  a  wonderful  idea  does  that  text  give  us  of  the  Son  ! 
Saints  in  heaven  do  not  know  him  perfectly  ;  even  the 
angels  do  not.  None  but  the  Father  is  able  to  compre- 
hend all  his  excellence.  Yet  various,  great,  un.searchable, 
infinite,  as  are  his  excellencies,  they  are  all  ours  ;  our 
Saviour,  our  Head,  "  our  flesh  and  our  bone."  O,  won- 
der ! — how  passing  wonder  is  this  !  Melhinks,  if  I  could 
borrow,  for  a  moment,  the  archangel's  trump,  and  make 
heaven,  earth,  and  hell  resound  with  "  Worthy  is'  the 
Lamb,  that  was  slain  !"  I  could  contentedly  drop  into 
nothing.  But  no — I  should  wish  to  live,  and  make  them 
resound  with  his  name  through  eternity.  What  a  trans- 
porting thought,  to  spend  an  eternity  in  exalting  God  and 
the  Lamb  ;  in  beholding  their  glory,  and  hearing  them 


212 


MtMOIR  UP 


extolled  by  all  creatures — this  is  heaven  indeed.  To  be 
swallowed  up,  and  lost  in  God  ;  to  have  our  spirits  embra- 
ced, wrapped  up  in  his  all-inlblding  Spirit ;  to  forget  our- 
selves, and  think  only  of  hiin  ;  to  lose,  in  a  manner,  our 
own  separate  existence,  and  exist  only  in  him  ;  to  have 
his  glory  all  in  all  to  us  ; — this  is,  indeed,  a  far  more  ex- 
ceeding and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

About  a  month  later,  he  gives  this  account  of  their  spir- 
itual prospects — "  Our  hopes  of  increasing  attention  be- 
gin to  revive  again.  Some  recent  instances  of  conviction 
have  taken  place,  and  we  have  about  thirty  very  serious 
inquirers.  The  church,  too,  are  more  roused,  and  we  have 
as  yet,  had  no  scandals  among  us  for  the  world  to  take 
hold  of.  I  cannot  but  hope,  that  God  designs  to  raise  up 
a  church  here,  which  will  shine  bright ;  and  be  like  a 
city  set  on  a  hill.  Satan  buffets  them  sorely  ;  but  the 
more  he  buffets  them,  the  faster  they  grow.  I  hope  yet, 
if  God  pleases,  to  see  seated  with  us  at  the  commun- 
ion table.  It  would,  I  doubt  not,  rejoice  your  very  heart." 

Some  idea  of  the  variety  and  amount  of  his  labors  may 
be  collected  from  a  single  sentence,  which  is  incidentally 
introduced  into  a  letter,  dated  February  17 — "  I  preach, 
or  do  what  is,  at  least,  as  laborious,  six  nights  in  a  week, 
besides  talking,  incessantly,  a  considerable  part  of  every 
day."  It  is  not  improbable,  that,  to  his  private  intercourse^, 
not  less  than  liis  public  addresses,  the  rapid  prosperity  of 
religion  is  to  be  ascribed.  His  inventive  genius  seemed 
to  delight  in  finding  out  as  many  ways,  as  possible,  by 
which  a  religious  influence  might  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
those,  to  whom  he  had  access.  Take  the  following  do- 
mestic scene,  as  an  illustration  :  it  is  unquestionably  the 
offspring  of  his  own  pious  ingenuity,  for  it  bears  as  infalli- 
ble marks  of  its  parentage,  as  the  description  of  it  does  of 
his  pen. 

 "  I  will  give  you  a  little  sketch  of  our  family  way 

of  living,  that  you  may  adopt  it  if  you  please.  In  the  first 
place,  we  have  agreed,  that,  if  either  of  us  says  a  word, 
which  tends  in  the  least  to  the  discredit  of  any  person,  the 
rest  shall  admonish  the  ofl'ender ;  and  this  has  entirely 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


213 


banished  evil-speaking  from  among  us.  In  the  next  place, 
we  are  careful,  especially  in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  as 
at  breakfast,  to  converse  on  nothing  which  is  inconsistent 
with  maintaining  a  prayerful  frame.  Christians,  I  believe, 
generally  think  they  do  pretty  well,  if  they  pray  twice  a 
day  ;  but  I  see  not  why  we  are  not  just  as  much  command- 
ed to  pray  without  ceasing,  as  to  pray  at  all.  We  some- 
times, however,  allow  our  minds  a  little  relaxation  at  din- 
ner, by  conversing  on  other  subjects,  than  those  which  are 
strictly  religious.  At  the  beginning  of  evening,  before 
the  candles  are  brought  in,  if  I  am  at  home,  which  is  not 
very  often  the  case,  we  all  sit  down,  and  take  a  little  tour 
up  to  heaven,  and  see  what  they  are  doing  there.  We 
try  to  figure  to  ourselves  how  they  feel,  and  how  we  shall 
feel,  and  what  we  shall  do ;  and  often,  while  we  are  try- 
ing to  imagine  how  they  feel,  our  own  feelings  become 
more  heavenly  ;  and  sometimes  God  is  pleased  to  open  to 
us  a  door  in  heaven,  so  that  we  get  a  glimpse  of  what  ie 
transacting  there — and  this  fills  us  so  full  of  impatience, 
that  we  can  scarcely  wait  till  death  comes  to  carry  us 
home.  If  we  cannot  get  together  before  tea,  for  this  pur- 
pose, we  lake  a  little  time  after  prayers,  before  separating 
for  the  night ;  and,  I  assure  you,  it  forms  an  excellent 
preparative  for  sweet  sleep. — But  enough  of  this,  at  pres- 
ent ;  if  you  like  it,  I  will  tell  you  more,  by-and-by." 

"Fch.  1811. 

 "  We  have  been  in  great  danger  from  fire.  It 

was  truly  of  the  Lord's  mercies,  that  we  were  not  consu- 
med, with  a  considerable  part  of  the  town.  Just  as 
the  water  began  to  fail,  and  all  hopes  were  over,  the  fire 
abated.  I  was  so  much  fatigued  by  over  exertion  in  re- 
moving our  things,  that  T  was  miserably  unwell  for  a  fort- 
night, but  am  now  recovered.  Some  acknowledge  the 
goodness  of  God  in  sparing  the  town  ;  but  others  are 
dreadfully  hardened.  One  poor  creature,  as  soon  as  the  fire 
was  extinguished,  cried  out,  "  Well,  we  have  got  it  out,  but 
no  thanks  to  Payson,  nor  God  neither."  Another  after  meet- 
ing, the  ensuing  Sabbath,  ob.served,  that  he  "  did  not  like 
this  giving  all  the  glory  to  God;  but  that  man  ought  to  have, 
at  least,  some  part  of  the  glory  of  putting  out  the  fire."  Thi8 


214 


MEMOIR  OF 


is,  indeed,  the  natural  language  of  every  heart,  but  few 
like  to  express  it  so  openly. 

"  I  fear  that  religion  is  on  the  decline  among  us.  There 
is  still,  however,  considerable  attention,  and  we  have  had 
a  few  remarkable  instances  of  conversion." 

"  March  1. — Had  a  most  violent  head-ache,  and  was 
almost  distracted ;  yet  was  obliged  to  preach  in  the  eve- 
ning. Found  many  more  present  than  I  expected,  and 
was  unusually  assisted,  and  the  people  were  very  solemn. 
Most  gladly  will  I  glory  in  my  infirmities,  that  the  power 
of  Christ  may  rest  upon  me ;  for  when  I  am  weak,  then  I 
am  strong." 

"Portland,  March  25,  1811. 

"  My  DEAR  Mother, 

 "  Satan  rages  most   violently  against  Christ's 

sheep,  and  I  am  almost  constantly  employed  in  trying  to 
counsel  and  comfort  them,  under  their  manifold  tempta- 
tions. However,  the  more  he  rages,  ihe  faster  they  grow; 
though  I  have  had  serious  fears  respecting  some  of  them, 
that  they  would  lose  life,  or  reason,  or  both.  I  now  find 
why  my  gracious  Master  has  suffered  me  to  be  so  griev- 
ously tormented,  in  times  past.  How  miserably  qualified 
should  I  otherwise  have  been,  to  speak  a  word  in  season 
to  them  that  are  weary  ! — Still  I,  I,  I !  nothing  but  I's — 
seven  in  half  a  page.  Well,  I  don't  care — I  am  writing 
to  my  mother,  and  I  know  she  loves  to  hear  about  /;  so 
I  will  proceed,  and  tell  her  about  a  half-sleeping,  half- 
waking  dream,  I  had  the  other  morning.  If  it  does  her 
as  much  good,  as  it  did  me,  it  won't  be  paper  lost. 

"  After  a  curious  kind  of  frame  in  sleep,  I  waked  my- 
self up  with  exclaiming — "  Lord,  why  is  it,  that  thou  art 
never  weary  of  heaping  favors  on  ungrateful,  perverse, 
stubborn  wretches,  who  render  thee  only  evil  for  good  ?" 
In  a  moment,  he  seemed  to  reply  as  powerfully,  as  if  he 
had  spoken  with  an  audible  voice — "  Because  I  am  never 
weury  of  gratifying  my  dear  Son,  and  showing  the  great- 
ness of  my  love  to  him.  Till  I  am  weary  of  him,  and 
cease  to  love  him,  I  shall  never  be  weary  of  heaping 
favors  on  his  friends,  however  unworthy." — These  words, 
it  is  true,  contain  nothing  more  than  an  obvious  truth  ; 


ICDWARD  PAYSON. 


215 


but  they  conveyed  more  to  my  mind,  than  all  the  books 
I  ever  read.  If  you  meditate  upon  them,  perhaps  tliey 
may  convey  something  to  yours.  What  strong  confidence 
are  they  suited  to  inspire,  if  we  realize  their  full  import. 
How  will  they  encourage  us  to  ask  and  expect  great 
things,  notwithstanding  our  inexpressible  unworthiness. 
Never  before  did  the  scheme  of  redemption,  and  the  great 
mystery  of  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  appear  .so  great  and 
glorious.  While  meditating  upon  it,  J  was  wonderiuUy 
struck  with  a  reason,  which  never  occured  to  me  before, 
why  God  permitted  Adam  to  fall.  Had  he  .stood,  all  his 
posterity  would  have  been  happy.  He  would,  tlierefore, 
in  one  sense,  have  been  their  Saviour ;  and  while  they 
were  enjoying  the  happiness  ol' heaven,  they  would  have 
exclaimed,  "  For  all  this  we  are  indebted  to  our  first  pa- 
rent." This  would  have  been  too  great  an  honor  for  any 
finite  being.  It  would  have  tempted  Adam  to  pride,  and  us 
to  idolatry.  The  honor,  therefore,  was  reserved  for  God's 
own  Son,  the  second  Adam. — But  perhaps  this  has  oc- 
curred to  you  before ;  so  I  will  not  enlarge. 

"  Mr.  R.  is  still  in  miserable  health.  He  will  take  a 
journey  in  the  Spring.  If  that  does  not  help  him,  we 
shall  think  him  irrecoverable.  I  fear  he  is  too  good  to 
stay  long  on  earth. 

*  #  #  * 
"  You  must  not,  certainly,  my  dear  mother,  say  one 
word,  which  even  looks  like  an  istimation  that  you  think 
me  advancing  in  grace.  I  cannot  bear  it.  Every  body 
here,  whether  friends  or  enemies,  are  conspiring  to  ruin 
me.  Satan  and  my  own  heart,  of  course,  will  lend  a 
hand  ;  and  if  i/oii  join  too,  I  fear  all  the  cold  water,  which 
Christ  can  throw  upon  my  pride,  will  not  prevent  it  Irom 
breaking  out  into  a  destructive  flame.  As  ceitainly  as 
any  body  flatters  and  care.^ses  me,  my  Father  has  to 
whip  me  for  it ;  and  an  unspeakable  mercy  it  is,  that  he 
condescends  to  do  it.  I  can,  it  is  true,  easily  muster  a 
hundred  good  reasons,  why  I  should  not  be  proud  ;  but 
pride  won't  mind  reason,  nor  any  thing  else  but  a  good 
drubbing.  Even  at  this  moment  I  feel  it  tingbng  in  my 
fingers'  ends,  and  seeking  to  guide  my  pen." 

"  April  4. — Spent  the  forenoon  in  writing.    In  the  af- 


216 


MEMOIR  OF 


ternoon,  attended  the  inquiry  meeting,  and  was  refreshed 
by  seeing  a  nunil)er  ol  new  inquirers.  The  Spirit  of 
God  seemed  to  be  present.  In  the  evening  attended  an- 
other, and  found  one  who  had  obtained  comfort.  Came 
home  e.xceediugly  fatigued,  but  rejoicing  in  God. 

"  April  5-  -  tlad  some  sense  of  my  own  weakness,  and 
some  longing  de-ires  that  God  would  meet  with  us.  Had 
a  most  solemn,  joylul,  and  refreshing  season,  and  trust  it 
was  highly  protitable  to  the  church,  but  was  myself  ex- 
ceedingly overcome. 

"  April  6, — Was  exceedin  ^ly  happy  all  day.  Enjoyed 
the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  undersianding. 

"  April  8. — Miserably  weak,  both  in  body  and  mind, 
and  exceedingly  wretched,  most  of  the  day.  The  light 
of  my  soul  was  withdrawn  from  me.  O,  what  a  misera- 
ble wretch  am  I,  when  Christ  is  absent.  It  is,  however, 
necessary  that  he  should  sometimes  withdraw ;  and  I  was 
enabled  to  realize  that  it  was  love,  which  induced  him  to 
hide  his  face,  and  I  submitted  to  it  without  one  niurnmr- 
ing  thought." 

On  the  eighth  of  May,  Mr.  Payson  was  married  to 
Ann  Louisa  Shipman,  of  New-Haven,  Connecticut, — a 
woman  of  kindred  piety,  and  whose  energy  and  firmness 
of  character,  connected  as  they  were  with  other  estima- 
ble accomplishments,  both  natural  and  acquired,  proved 
his  best  earthly  support,  and  an  abiding  check  upon  his 
constitutional  tendency  to  depression.  Female  affection 
and  ing-enuity  could  not  have  been  better  directed,  or  more 
signally  honored  and  rewarded.  In  the  acquisition  of 
such  a  "  help-meet,"  he  justly  considered  himself  as 'hav- 
ing obtained  favor  of  the  Lord.' 

It  has  been  alleged,  perhaps  without  sufficient  reason, 
that  ministers,  as  a*  class,  are  chargeable  beyond  others, 
with  failures  in  what  relates  to  this  most  delicate  and  im- 
portant connection.  The  truth  is,  their  errors  of  this 
kind  attract  more  notice,  and  are  more  injurious.  But 
the  fact,  that  the  peace  and  welfare  of  so  many,  as  well  as 
his  own  usefulness,  are  materiflly  affected  by  the  charac- 
ter of  a  pastor's  wife,  deserves  the  consideration  of  all 
who  are  still  in  a  situation  to  profit  by  it.    A  chapter 


EDWARD  I'AVSON. 


217 


might  be  compiled  from  Mr.  Payson's  letters,  which  would 
be  of  great  use  to  the  clerical  candidate  for  wedlock,  who 
was  anxious  to  know  the  best  method  of  conducting  the 
preliminary  intercourse  ;  but  the  favored  object  of  his 
conjugal  attachment  still  survives,  and  her  right  to  the 
early  avowals  and  precious  testimonials  of  his  faithful  love 
is  sole  and  exclusive.  Still,  an  instructive  exhibition  of 
his  views  and  of  his  practice  may  be  made,  without  any 
indelicate  infringement  of  this  right. 

He  wholly  avoided  those  "  entangling  alliances,"  in 
early  youth,  which  have  doomed  many  a  man,  either  to 
take  to  his  bosom  one,  whom,  though  once  his  equal,  he 
had  so  far  outstripped  in  the  career  of  mental  improvement 
as  to  produce  a  most  mortifying  disparity,  and  preclude 
the  hope  of  ever  finding  in  his  wife  a  companion,  fitted  for 
rational  intercourse  ; — or  else,  to  desert  the  confiding  fe- 
male, whose  affections  he  had  gained, — an  alternative,  too 
base  for  an  honorable  minded  man  to  adopt.  Mr.  Payson's 
circumspection  is  the  more  remarkable,  when  his  ardent 
temperament  is  considered  ;  and  yet,  as  early  as  1805,  the 
following  sober  views  are  expressed  in  a  letter  to  his  sis- 
ter : 

"  When  I  was  at  home,  I  thought  you  appeared  rather 
apprehensive,  that  I  should  form  some  connection,  which, 
to  say  the  least,  would  be  no  help  to  my  religious  pursuits. 
But  you  may  lay  aside  this  fear.  I  have  seen  so  much  of  my 
own  proneness  to  turn  aside,  that  it  is,  and  I  hope  ever 
will  be,  my  resolution,  not  to  fetter  myself  with  any  volun- 
tary inducements  to  stray.  Besides,  I  think  no  precept  in 
the  Bible  is  plainer,  than  that  which  forbids  us  to  yoke  to- 
gether with  unbelievers.  However,  I  think  it  probable 
enough,  that  this  resolution  may  be  the  occasion  of  my 
dying  a  bachelor  ;  but  I  am  not  at  all  anxious  about  it." 

When  his  purpose  was  fixed,  to  live  no  longer  "a  bach- 
elor," the  course  which  he  pursued,  revealed  the  source 
from  which  he  always  took  his  lessons.  It  was  as  closely 
conformed  to  scriptural  example,  as  that  of  any  modern 
suitor, — having  little  more  of  formality,  than  that  of  the 
patriarchs  of  the  Old  Testament.  Still  he  did  not  court  in 
sackcloth,  as  is  evident  from  a  nole,  written  on  returning 
19 


218 


MEMOIR  OF 


from  his  first  visit,  and  addressed  to  his  mother,  whom, 
like  a  dutiful  son,  he  had  previously  consulted  : 

"  Ezeter,  Wed.  Eve. 

"  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  As  I  know  the  deep  interest  you  take  in  every  thing 
which  concerns  your  good-for-nothing  son,  I  will  go  no 
farther,  before  I  inform  you  of  the  result  of  the  business  on 
which  we  conversed,  while  I  was  at  home.  I  cannot,  in- 
deed, go  into  particulars  ;  but  it  may  be  some  gratification 
to  you  to  know,  that  the  business  is  concluded  on,  and 
nothing  remains,  but  to  fix  the  wedding  day.  On  this 
point  alone,  we  differed.  The  lady,  forsooth,  talks  of  a 
year,  or  so  ;  but  I  imagine  her  year  may,  without  much 
difficulty,  be  reduced  to  two  or  three  months  ;  and  I  shall 
make  no  more  journeys,  till  I  go  to  fetch  her  home,  Prov- 
dence  permitting. 

"  And  now,  my  dearest  mother,  you  must  permit  me  to 
exult  over  you  a  little.  When  I  used  to  talk  of  getting  a 
wife,  without  losing  any  time  about  it,  you  laughed  at  the 
idea  ;  and  thought  it  preposterous,  impracticable,  and  ab- 
surd. But  you  see,  that,  without  going  a  mile  purposely 
out  of  my  way,  or  losing  a  single  hour,  I  have  found  and 
courted,  or  rather  Providence  has  found  for  me,  a  person, 
who  bids  fairer  to  render  me  happy,  than  any  other  woman 
I  have  seen.  It  is  true  many  things  may  yet  intervene,  to 
prevent  the  contemplated  connection  ;  but,  humanly 
speaking,  it  will  take  place.  And  if  it  does  not,  1  trust 
that  I  shall  be  resigned,  and  feel  satisfied  that  it  is  for  the 
best.  This,  you  will  say,  argues  no  great  strength  of  at- 
tachment. It  may  be  so ;  and  yet,  considering  that  my 
attachment  is  a  babe  of  only  a  fortnight  old,  he  is  strong 
enough,  in  all  conscience  ;  and,  I  foresee,  will  give  me 
trouble  enough  to  manage  him.  The  little  urchin  pleaded 
very  hard  to  be  allowed  a  longer  stay  at  A  ;  and  be- 
cause duty  and  reason  said,  no — he  has  been  sulky  all  day, 
and  rendered  my  ride  by  no  means  comfortable. — But  I 
ask  pardon  for  this  lively  strain,  in  speaking  of  a  subject, 
which,  after  all,  is  a  very  serious  one  ;  as  my  worldly  hap- 
piness, and,  what  is  of  infinitely  more  consequence,  my 
usefulness,  in  a  great  measure  depends  upon  it.  At  pre- 
sent, I  see  no  reason  to  fear,  that  either  will  suffer.  God 


EDWARD  PAY30N. 


219 


seems  to  have  made  my  way  prosperous  ;  and  I  am  more 
than  ever  persuaded,  tliat  the  best  way  to  succeed  in  any 
of  our  temporal  concerns  is  to  cast  them  upon  him — have 
nothing  to  do  with  them — and  devote  ourselves  entirely  to 
the  advancement  of  his  cause.  True,  he  only  can  excite 
us  to  adopt  this  course,  but  when  he  does,  it  is  an  almost 
infallible  symptom  of  success." 

His  mother  must  have  held  a  pen  of  rare  and  various 
powers — as  piquant  in  satire,  as  ii  was  judicious  in  coun- 
sel, and  soothing  in  consolation.  She  might  have  thought 
him  affectedly  singular  in  his  notions  of  matrimony,  and 
directed  her  strokes  accordingly.  At  any  rate,  he  is  seen 
smarting  under  her  castigation,  in  the  following  letter, 
which,  by  the  way,  is  a  very  serious  one,  and  discloses  a 
heart  alive  to  the  danger  of  being  diverted,  by  creature  at- 
tachments, from  the  Lord  of  his  affectiojis  : 

 "  I  am  sorry  you  are  never  pleased  with  me,  when 

I  write  on  a  certain  subject.  I  fear  this  letter  will  appear 
as  little  pleasing  as  any  of  its  predecessors.    Since  I  wrote 

last,  I  have  made  another  visit  to  A  .  Circumstances, 

which  I  could  not  foresee,  rendered  it  indispensably  ne- 
cessary. I  took  care  not  to  be  absent,  either  on  a  Sab- 
bath, or  Lecture  day  ;  yet  I  felt  very  guilty  in  appropria- 
ting so  much  of  my  Master's  time  to  my  own  use.  A  voice 
seemed  continually  sounding  in  my  ears — "  What  dost 
thou  here,  Elijah  1"  Had  it  not  been  for  this,  I  verily  be- 
lieve Louisa  and  I  should  have  taken  a  trip  to  Rindge. 
She  did  all  but  ask  me  to  go  ;  but  1  was  obliged  to  be  deaf 
to  her  hints  ;  and  though  it  was  not  a  little  painful  at  the 
time,  I  have  been  glad  of  it  since.  But  the  idea  of  form- 
ing new  ties  to  bind  myself  to  the  world  is  dreadful.  I 
thought,  at  the  time,  that  I  sincerely  sought  divine  direc- 
tion ;  but  I  have  since  been  afraid  that  I  did  not.  How- 
ever, I  know  that  the  Lord  reigns,  and  that  he  will  take 
care  of  his  glory  ;  and  this  is  enough  for  me.  As  to  my 
happines  here,  it  is  nothing.  I  neither  expect  any  happi- 
ness, nor  wish  for  any,  separate  from  that  which  arises 
from  serving  and  enjoying  God.  It  is  but  a  day,  an  hour, 
a  moment,  and  all  will  be  over. 

 "  But,  my  dearest  Mother,  how  could  you  write  as 


22e 


MEIffOIR  OF 


you  did,  respecting  the  views  and  feelings  which  my  let- 
ter expressed  ?  It  was  cruel  to  banter  me  so ;  dt  least,  if 
any  other  person,  of  as  long  standing  in  religion  as  you, 
had  written  in  such  a  manner,  I  should  have  been  sure  she 
was  bantering  me,  and  ridiculing  my  weakness.  I  shall 
be  afraid  to  express  my  feelings  again  ;  and,  indeed,  I  did 
not  intend  to  do  it  then,  but  they  ran  away  with  me  be- 
fore I  was  aware. — You  talk  of  my  heights  and  depths — 
Yes,  I  am  deep,  indeed,  in  guilt,  and  my  iniquities  are 
high  as  the  heavens.  These  are  all  the  heights  and  depths 
of  which  I  know  any  thing.  Compared  with  old  Chris- 
tians, I  am  but  a  babe  of  yesterday  ;  and  joys,  which  to 
them  would  appear  things  of  course,  are  sufficient  to  make 
my  weak  head  run  round.  It  was  for  this  reason  I  thought 
my  letter  must  appear  a  foolish  rhapsody.  But  I  will  not 
say  another  word  on  the  subject,  lest  you  should  suppose 
I  am  aping  humility." 

The  considerations,  by  which  he  defended  himself 
against  the  fear  of  possible  disappointment,  which  some 
communication  of  his  cautious  parent  was  adapted  to  ex- 
cite, are  striking  and  full  of  interest.  To  estimate  aright 
his  indifference,  as  to  the  developements  of  the  future,  it 
should  be  remembered  that  the  negotiation  had  already 
proceeded  too  far,  to  render  an  honorable  retreat  optional 
with  him.  The  pledge,  "  for  better  or  for  worse,"  had 
been  virtually  interchanged  ;  and  the  result,  whether  frui- 
tion or  disappointment,  he  was  determined  should  subserve 
his  spiritual  welfare  : 

"  Mv  DEAREST  MoTHER, 

 "  I  am  very  sorry  you  think  me  so  heterodox  in 

my  notions  respecting  matrimony  ;  but  I  cannot  alter 
them.  It  appears  to  me  a  matter  of  very  little  more  con- 
sequence, what  kind  of  a  wife  I  get,  than  it  does,  what 
kind  of  a  companion  I  might  have  in  a  journey  from  here 
to  Rindge.  We  are  here,  but  as  it  were  for  a  moment. 
To-morrow,  and  we  see  the  Judge  coming  in  the  clouds 
of  heaven.  And  even  if  the  period  of  my  life  were  longer, 
have  I  not  the  best  possible  security,  that  all  things  shall 
work  together  for  my  good.  I  shall  ctrtoinli/  have  a  good 
wife,  and  be  very  happy  with  her,  if  God  sees  best  :  but 


EDWARP  PAY50N. 


221 


if  he  sees  a  bad  wife  is  a  necessary  trial  for  me,  who  am  I, 
that  I  should  object  ?  1  should  certainly  feel  very  easy 
about  my  present  welfare,  did  it  depend  entirely  on  your 
good  wishes  to  render  me  happy.  How  much  more  rea- 
son, then,  have  1  to  be  easy,  since  it  depends  on  my  Fath- 
er and  Saviour  !  If  1  wanted  just  such  a  world  as  this,  ibr 
my  own  private  accommodation,  methinks  I  could  go  and 
ask  it  of  my  Saviour,  just  as  freely  as  I  would  ask  him  for 
a  straw.  He,  who  refused  not  his  own  blood,  surely  would 
not  refuse  me  such  a  trifle,  as  a  world,  which  he  couid 
make  with  a  word,  if  he  saw  that  it  was  really  necessary 
to  my  happiness.  Why  then  should  I  feel  the  least  possi- 
ble anxiety  about  a  wife  ?  or  waste  my  Master's  time  in 
seeking  one  1  True  it  is,  I  must  go  to  New  Haven  after 
her  ;  for  I  do  not  suppose  she  will  be  brought  hither  by 
angels — but  such  a  journey  I  can  take  without  scruple, 
for  my  health  will  absolutely  require  it." 

A  few  short  extracts  will  be  sufficient  to  show  the  na- 
ture and  manner  of  his  intercourse  with  the  friend  to  whom 

he  was  affianced : 

 "  After  all,  we  shall  be  just  as  much  to  each  other, 

as  our  Maker  pleases.  He  can,  and  I  trust  will,  render  us 
as  happy,  as  it  is  best  wc  should  be  in  this  life,  and  make 
us  a  blessing  to  each  other.  With  his  permission,  I  pur- 
pose to  observe  Friday,  Dec.  7th,  as  a  day  of  prayer  for  his 
blessing  upon  our  union,  should  he  permit  it  to  take  place. 

1  trust  your  prayers  will  ascend  with  mine. 

*  *       «  « 

"  I  was  delighted  with  what  you  wrote  respecting  our 
precious  and  adorable  Saviour.  You  cannot  find  a  quick- 
er and  surer  way  to  my  heart,  than  by  praising  and  loving 
him.  I  would  almost  be  willing  that  you  should  cease  to 
love  me,  if  you  would  bestow  on  him  all  the  love  which 
you  throw  away  upon  me.  He  is  worthy,  he  is  precious 
indeed.  To  the  power,  the  majesty,  the  glory  of  God,  he 
unites  the  gentleness,  the  tenderness,  the  sympathy  of  a 
friend  and  brother.  This  is  just  such  a  Saviour  as  we 
need. 

*  «       «  « 

"  I  arrived,  last  evening,  much  fatigued.    My  journey, 
19* 


222 


MEMOIR  OF 


though  quickly  performed,  was  not  unattended  with  dan- 
ger. Owing-  to  the  weakness  of  tlie  harness,  or  the  care- 
lessness of  the  driver,  the  horses  ran  away  with  us,  no  less 
than  three  times,  and  were  stopped  only  by  want  of  power 
to  proceed.  For  some  minutes  we  expected,  every  instant, 
to  be  dashed  in  pieces,  and  my  fellow  passengers  were  not 
a  little  frightened ;  but  I  knew  that  my  Heavenly  Father 
held  the  reins,  and  felt  unusually  happy. 

 "  It  is  a  sufficient  answer  to  your  admonitions  re- 
specting my  health,  to  say,  that  it  has  rather  improved 
than  otherwise,  the  year  past  ;  and  shall  I  then  distrust 
the  power  and  goodness  of  God,  and  endeavor,  by  dimin- 
ishing my  labors,  to  lay  up  a  stock  of  health  for  a  future 

period,  which,  after  all,  1  may  never  live  to  see  ? 

*       *       *  # 

"  I  have  suffered  every  conceivable  kind  of  spiritual  dis- 
tress myself,  and  have  seen  too  much  of  the  good  effects 
of  it,  to  be  much  grieved,  when  I  see  others  suffering  the 
same.  I  know  that  Christ  is  with  them  in  the  furnace, 
and  will  bring  them  forth  as  gold  ;  and,  therefore,  though 
I  sympathize  with  them,  I  am  rather  pleased  than  sorry, 

to  see  them  distressed  I  have  long  considered  a 

growing  acquaintance  with  the  desperate  wickedness,  and 
surpassing  deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  as  almost  the  only 
mark  of  a  real  Christian,  which  Jsatan  cannot  counterfeit." 

From  a  union,  formed  on  such  principles,  the  happiest 
results  were  to  be  expected.  That  gracious  Being,  whose 
blessing  they  had  supplicated,  more  than  answered  their 
requests.  On  taking  possession  of  the  habitation,  prepa- 
red for  their  reception,  they  entered  on  their  new  condi- 
tion, as  a  separate  family,  with  special  acknowledgments 
of  God.  "  In  the  evening,"  says  the  diary,  "  had  a  meet- 
ing by  way  of  dedicating  our  house.  It  was  a  very  sol- 
emn, melting  season.  Afterwards,  was  greatly  favored  in 
secret  prayer.  Knew  not  how  to  give  over  praying,  the 
employment  was  so  sweet.  Could  scarcely  ask  any  thing 
for  myself,  but  only  that  God  might  be  glorified." — He  lost 
no  time  in  making  his  mother  a  partaker  of  his  joy  : 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


223 


•■'  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  I  must  tell  you  how  happy  I  am  ;  happy,  not  because 
I  ha*e  one  of  the  best  of  wives  ;  nf)t  because  1  live  in  the 
midst  of  a  grateful  and  affectionate  people  ;  not  because 
I  am  surrounded  by  an  abundance  of  the  good  things  of 
this  life  ;  but  because  1  enjoy  God  in  all  these  things. 

"  We  went  to  house-keeping,  yesterday.  1  felt,  in  some 
measure,  as  I  wished  to  feel  on  such  an  occasion.  It  wae 
a  blessed  evening,  and  this  has  been  a  blessed  morning. — 
My  dearest  motlier,  I  must  let  my  heart  have  vent. — All 
my  days,  I  have  grieved,  provoked,  and  dishonored  God, 
and  he  has  done  nothing  but  heap  favors,  and  pardons,  and 
honors  upon  me.  O,  it  affects  me,  to  think  of  his  good- 
ne.-s.  O,  that  all  the  world  knew  how  vile  I  have  been, 
and  how  good  he  has  been  in  return.  Could  Christians 
know  his  dealings  witli  such  a  wretch,  they  would  surely 
never,  never  distrust  him  again.  And  yet  I,  who  do  know 
it,  shall  distrust  him  again.  1  shall  again  grieve  and  pro- 
voke him,  as  in  times  past,  and,  perhaps,  be  left  to  bring 
a  reproach  upon  religion.  I  never  felt  myself  to  be  so 
much  in  danger,  as  at  this  moment.  I  am  happy  in  my 
own  soul — happy  in  my  external  circumstances  ;  but  I  re- 
joice with  trembling.  I  dare  not  resolve  that  I  will  not 
suffer  myself  to  be  led  away,  or  lifted  up.  I  dare  not  say, 
that,  by  to-morrow,  I  shall  not  feel  stupid  and  ungrateful 
as  a  block  ;  or  even  full  of  rage  and  enmity  as  a  devil. 
But  I  never  felt  more  able  to  hang  upon  Christ,  and  trust 
him  to  keep  me  up.  He  knows,  I  trust,  it  is  my  earnest 
desire  to  be  stripped  of  all  my  blessings,  and  left  utterly 
destitute,  rather  than  be  drawn  by  them  away  from  him. 

"  My  people  have  been  wonderfully  kind.  As  soon  as 
we  got  into  our  house,  they  sent  us  two  cart-loads  of  pro- 
visions, &c.  &c.  including  every  article,  however  trifling, 
which  could  be  wanted  in  a  family.  This  was  kind  in 
them,  but  still  more  kind  in  my  Heavenly  Father.  O,  may 
I  never  forget,  that,  whoever  may  be  the  stream,  He  is 
the  Fountain. 

"  Louisa  had  long  been  shut  out  from  the  presence  of 
God;  but  last  evening  she  was  restored.  This  I  consider 
a  good  omen.  God  has  given  her  favor,  so  far  as  1  can 
learn,  in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  This  is  another  great 
blessing. 


224 


MEMOIR  OF 


"  And  now,  my  dearest  mother,  what  more  shall  I  say  7 
You  have  nothing  to  wish  for,  notliing  to  pray  for,  as  it 
respects  your  happy  son,  liut  that  he  may  not  he  rendered 
slothful,  or  vain,  or  proud,  by  prosperity  ;  that  his  love 
and  zeal  for  his  divine  Master  may  increase  with  his  mer- 
cies, and  that  he  may  he  prepared  for  a  day  of  adversity  ; 
for  such  a  day  must  come.  Well,  let  it  come,  if  God  so 
pleases.    Welcome  any  thing,  that  he  sees  fit  to  send. 

"  Notwithstanding  your  lears,  I  do  not  yet  love  my  pa- 
rents one  whit  less  than  before.  It  almost  doubles  my 
happiness,  to  think  of  their  sharing  it." 

On  his  birth-day,  next  following  this  event,  he  writes — 
"  The  past  year  has  been  one  of  the  most  important  of  my 
life.  I  have  seen  much,  very  much  of  the  goodness  of 
God,  and  of  my  own  vileness.  I  have  formed  a  connec- 
tion, which  will  have  an  influence,  lasting  as  eternity,  and 
I  have  reason  to  hope  that  the  divine  blessing  has  attend- 
ed it." 

Two  letters  will  here  be  introduced,  whose  dates  would 
assign  them  a  later  place,  but  which  are  connected  with 
the  paragraphs  just  quoted,  by  the  domestic  nature  of  their 
contents.  The  second  is  from  his  mother,  congratulating 
him  upon  the  birth  of  his  first-born,  and  must  supply  the 
place  of  his  own  reflections  on  that  event ;  for  at  that  time 
his  diary  is  silent,  and  the  letter,  which  bore  the  tidings 
to  his  parents,  has  not  been  preserved. 

"  Portland,  Jan.  20,  1812. 

"  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  Were  you  with  us  to-day,  you  would  see  a  strange 
mixture  of  joy  and  grief  among  us.  Your  letter  to  Grata, 
especially  that  part  of  it  which  relates  to  my  brothers,' gave 
us  as  much  joy,  as  we  can  ever  expect  to  feel  in  one  day, 
while  .inhabitants  of  this  changing  world.  It  made  our 
hearts  leap  within  us,  to  hear  of  poor  Eben,  or  rather  rich 
Eben,  as  I  liope  we  may  now  call  him.  But, — there  must 
always  be  a  but,  till  we  get  to  heaven, — the  same  mail, 
that  brought  this  welcome  intelligence,  brought  a  letter 
J  from  New-Haven,  informing  us  of  the  death  of  Louisa's 
brother  Henry.    She  is,  of  course,  in  great  affliction,  ibr 


EDWARn  PAYSON. 


25 


she  had  little,  if  any  evidence  that  he  was  prepared  for  this 
event.  I  begin  now  to  find,  lor  the  first  time,  th;it  by 
doubling  myself,  I  have  doubled  my  sorrows,  and  render- 
ed myself  a  broader  mark  for  the  arrows  of  misfortune. 
However,  I  am  content  to  meet  with  a  few  deductions 
from  the  happiness  which  wedlock  affords.  I  should,  oth- 
erwise, be  almost  too  happy  for  my  spiritual  welfare.  I 
am  fully  of  your  opinion,  that  marriage  is  a  wonderfully 
wise  and  gracious  institution,  and  shews,  in  a  striking 
point  of  light,  the  goodness  of  our  heavenly  Father.  J  am 
also  convinced,  that,  when  properly  managed,  it  is  no  less 
'  favorable  to  religion.  You  will  think  that  I  write  like  a 
new-married  man  ;  and  will,  probably  enough,  conclude 
that,  in  a  few  years,  I  shall  feel  differently.  It  is  very  pos- 
sible that  I  may  ;  but  hitherto  my  happiness  has  been  con- 
tinually increasing.  We  are  much  more  attached  to  each 
other,  than  we  were  at  first  ;  and  daily  see  new  cause  to 
admire  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  him  who  fitted  us  for 
each  other,  and  brought  us  together.  I  have,  I  may  al- 
most say,  more,  temporal  mercies  than  I  wish  for,  and  they 
are  continually  increasing  ;  they  come  without  asking  ; 
but  neither  by  asking,  nor  in  any  other  way,  am  I  equally 
conscious  of  obtaining  those  spiritual  blessings,  which  I 
wish  for,  and  which  seem  indispensably  necessary.  How- 
ever, I  do  not  flatter  myself  that  my  present  happiness 
will  continue  long.  Perhaps  a  few  weeks  will  deprive  me 
of  her,  whose  society  constitutes  so  large  a  share  of  it. 
God's  will  be  done.  I  trust  that  he  has,  in  some  measure, 
prepared  me  for  such  an  event.  I  have  viewed  it  in  ev- 
ery posshble  point  of  light ;  and,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  feel 
willing,  yes,  blessed  be  his  name  !  perfectly  willing,  that 
he  should  do  what  he  will  with  hisown.***We  shall  have 
your  prayers,  I  doubt  not.  O  how  much  am  I  already  in- 
debted to  them  ! 

"  I  cannot  close,  without  adverting  again  to  the  blessed 
change  you  mention  in  our  family.  Give  my  love  to  E. 
Charge  H.  and  P.  to  fitriv<,  as  well  as  seek  ;  to  ripvnt  and 
pray — and  not  to  pray  first,  in  order  to  repent  afterwards. 
And  urge  Eliza  to  follow  the  exa.nple  of  her  brothers,  and 
remember  her  Creator  in  the  days  of  her  youth." 


226 


MEMOIR  OF 


"  March  27,  1812. 

"  My  ever  dear  Son, 

"  Your  last  was,  indeed,  fraught  with  precious  tidings; 
— and  we  are  now  to  view  you  and  your  dear  Louisa,  as 
sustaining  a  new,  and  very  important  relation  in  life.  May 
gracious  Heaven  look  with  benignity  upon  this  dear  ob- 
ject of  your  mutual  affections,  and  realize  your  best  wish- 
es in  its  behalf.  Precious  babe  !  already  do  I  clasp  it  in 
my  affections,  and  implore  the  blessing  of  heaven  upon  it. 
Great  is  the  fatigue,  the  care,  the  anxiety,  of  rearing  a 
family  ;  but  if  it  is  performed  aright,  it  is  a  blessed  work. 
— You  have  yet  to  learn  how  difficult  the  task,  and  how 
much  patience,  prudence,  and  grace,  are  requisite  to  qual- 
ify us  to  be  faithful  to  the  sacred  trust  deposited  in  our 
keeping.  Yet,  for  your  encouragement,  and  as  a  debt  of 
gratitude  due  to  our  most  gracious  Parent,  I  freely  ac- 
knowledge myself  amply  compensated  for  all  I  have  ever 
suffered  or  done  for  my  Edward.  Alas  !  I  have  been  ex- 
ceedingly deficient  in  my  duty  to  my  children  ;  but  with 
what  ineffable  goodness  has  God  pardoned  my  unfaithful- 
ness, and  noticed  every  sincere  attempt  to  discharge,  in 
any  measure,  the  important  duties  of  a  mother ;  and,  in 
some  instances,  done  more  for  them,  than  I  ever  thought 
or  asked.  May  He  enable  you  to  receive  this  little  one 
from  his  gracious  hands,  and,  as  he  requires,  bring  it  up 
for  him.  You  were  very  kind  to  write  me  so  soon  ;  it 
was  a  proof  of  affection,  for  which  my  heart  thanks  you — 
but  we  are  looking  impatiently  for  another  letter. 

"  Your  good  father  put  on  one  of  his  best  smiles,  upon 
hearing  he  was  a  grandfather.  "  Ah  !'"  he  says — "  what 
is  it  ?  a  son  ?  or  a  daughter  ?"  with  other  inquiries.  He 
smiled  when  he  read — "  Babe  made  the  house  ring  ;"  and 
observed,  you  would  not  want  for  music  of  that  kind,  he 
supposed.  He  is  in  very  good  health,  and  now  attending 
a  conference  in  a  remote  part  of  the  town.    *    *    *  * 

"  May  you  be  guided  safely  amidst  the  innumerable 
snares  which  await  our  every  step,  and  your  path,  like  the 
rising  light,  shine  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 
Thus  prays 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 
In  December,  1811,  the  sole  care  of  the  church  and 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


227 


parish  devolved  on  him,  in  consequence  of  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  senior  pastor's  relation  to  the  church,  agreea- 
bly to  the  advice  of  Council  mutually  called. 

An  event  of  this  kind  is  usually  of  all-absorbing  inter- 
est to  a  people,  and  seldom  fails  to  divert  attention  from 
the  important  concern  of  personal  religion.  But  such 
does  not  appear  to  have  been  the  effect,  in  the  present 
case,  to  any  very  lamentable  extent — the  accession  to  the 
church,  this  year,  being  thirty-nine,  and,  the  subsequent 
year,  considerably  greater  than  any  preceding.  He  closed 
the  labors  of  this  year  with  a  most  seasonable  discourse 
from  2  Cor.  IV.  13,  We  also  believe,  and  therefore  speak, 
in  which  he  attempted  to  state  the  principal  doctrines, 
which  Paul  professed  to  believe — to  show  that  he  did  ac- 
tually believe  them — that  he  had  sufficient  reasons  to  be- 
lieve them — and  that  this  belief  necessarily  led  him  to 
preach  and  conduct  in  the  manner  he  did.  It  was  a  pop- 
ular and  useful  defence  of  evangelical  doctrines,  and  of 
ministerial  zeal,  and  was  applied  to  the  auditory  with  pun- 
gent force. 

His  diary,  during  this  year,  authorizes  some  inferences, 
besides  that  of  his  spirituality  and  devotion  to  his  work. 
A  few  short  extracts  of  each  kind  will  form  an  appropriate 
conclusion  to  the  chapter  : 

"July  17. — Heard  much,  to-day,  of  the  rage  of  oppo- 
sers ;  found  others  much  discouraged  by  it.  Was  driven 
by  it  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  there  found  unusual  en- 
largement in  pleading  for  the  effusions  of  the  Spirit.  Nev- 
er felt  more  drawn  out  in  prayer  for  this,  and  could  not 
help  hoping  that  he  would  espouse  our  cause.  Was  deep- 
ly affected  with  the  sovereign  goodness  of  God. 

"  Aug. — O,  what  a  privilege  it  would  be,  to  have 
strength  to  labor  all  the  time  for  God. 

"  Sept.  24,  25. — Was  called  up  at  midnight  by  some 
mischievous  person,  and  sent  off  to  see  a  person  said  to 
be  dying  ....  Found  it  a  serious  joke  to  me,  for  I  took 
cold,  and  was  sick  several  days. 

"  Sept.  29. — Had  a  most  refreshing  season,  this  morn- 
ing, in  prayer.  Felt  most  intense  hatred  of  sin,  and  de- 
sire to  be  free  from  its  power. 


228 


MEMOIR  OF 


"  Oct.  5. — Have  been  abundantly  convinced,  to-day, 
that  it  is  not  a  vain  thing  to  call  upon  God.  Was  remark- 
ably assisted  in  preparing  for  to-morrow.  In  the  evening, 
was  favored  with  an  uncommonly  precious  season  in  pray- 
er. O,  how  different  does  every  thing  appear,  when  God 
is  present.    He  is  indeed  all  in  all  to  me. 

"  Oct.  8. — Enjoyed  a  most  delightful  season  in  prayer. 
Had  such  strong  confidence  in  God  from  a  view  of  his 
willingness  to  five,  that  I  felt  ready  to  ask  and  expect 
every  thing  in  his  power  to  bestow.  Knew  not  how  to 
stop,  till  I  was  utterly  exhausted. 

"  Oct.  10. — Had  some  different  views  of  Christ  and 
heaven,  from  any  I  ever  before  enjoyed,  so  that  I  felt  the 
fullest  assurance  of  salvation ;  and  wished  to  be  saved, 
that  I  might  praise  and  love  God  perfectly. 

"  Oct.  22. — Was  enabled  to  cast  all  my  cares  on  the 
Lord,  and  felt  lightened.  Never  did  the  Bible  seem  so 
sweet,  never  did  the  light  of  God's  countenance  seem  so 
exquisitely  precious  as  now  ;  nor  did  I  ever  more  need  it. 

"  Oct.  24. — In  the  course  of  the  day,  saw  an  Indian. 
Was  instantly  struck,  and  much  afl'ected  with  a  sense  of 
his  wretched  condition.  Never  had  such  feelings  before. 
In  the  evening  had  great  freedom  in  praying  for  poor 
savages  and  others,  who  are  destitute  of  the  light  of  the 
gospel. 

"  NoiK  7. — Felt  a  little  revived.  Set  up  a  little  prayer 
■meeting  in  my  family,  for  a  revival,  and  had  some  liberty. 

"  Nov.  28.  Had  a  most  refreshing  and  delightful  sea- 
sen  in  prayer  this  morning.  Felt  something  of  the  life 
and  power  of  religion  through  the  day.  In  the  evening 
preached,  ....  and  was  uncommonly  assisted,  and  the 
people  appeared  much  affected.  Felt  much  gratitude  to 
God  for  his  assistance,  and  much  encouraged  respecting 
■a  revival." 


EDWABD  PAYSO'N. 


229 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Forms  affrayer — Thoughts  on  public  prayer — His  sin- 
cerity— the  importance  of  this  quality  to  a  minister's 
saccess. 

"  You  would  greatly  oblige  me,  by  loaning  me  a  copy 
of  your  prayer,  to-day" — said  a  distinguished  lady  to  Dr. 
Payson,  as  he  was  retiring  from  the  house  of  worship  on  a 
memorable  occasion.  She  was  surprised  on  being  told, 
that  it  had  vanished  with  the  breath  which  gave  it  utter- 
ance. This  lady  was  not  an  attendant  on  his  ministry  ; 
but  had  come,  at  this  time,  with  the  expectation  of  seeing 
La  Fayette  in  the  assembly  ;  and,  in  common  with  many 
others,  was  filled  with  admiration  of  the  intercessory  part 
of  the  exercises,  as  differing  from  all  she  had  ever  heard, 
in  richness  and  appropriateness  of  matter,  as  well  as  in 
fervor  of  utterance.  Few,  it  is  believed,  ever  heard  him, 
for  the  first  time,  even  in  the  family,  or  on  the  most  com- 
mon occasion,  without  experiencing  kindred  emotions. 
The  wonder,  too,  was  enhanced,  rather  than  diminished, 
by  every  repetition  of  the  exercise.  To  those,  whose  de- 
votions he  led  for  twenty  years,  in  the  sanctuary,  in  the 
conference  room,  by  the  sick  bed,  at  festivals,  and  funer- 
als, every  prayer  seemed  to  have  all  the  freshness  of  origin- 
ality. His  resources  for  this  duty  appeared  to  be  abso- 
lutely inexhaustible.  There  was  something  in  his  prayers, 
powerful  to  arrest  and  fix  attention — something,  which 
seized  and  absorbed  the  faculties  of  the  soul,  and  separa- 
ted it,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  from  its  connections  with 

this  present  evil  world."  The  full,  deep,  reverent,  flexi- 
ble,suppliant  tones  of  his  voice,  as  far  removed  fi-om  the  cant 
of  the  fanatic,  as  they  were  from  the  levity  of  the  witling, 
contributed  something  to  the  effect  of  his  public  devotions. 

The  question  has  been  asked  by  more  than  one  distin- 
guished minister,  since  Dr.  Payson's  death,  whether  he 
left  behind  him  any  written  forms  of  prayer.  So  far  from 
this,  it  is  believed  he  never  wrote  a  prayer.  There  are, 
20 


230 


MEMOIR  OF 


indeed,  interspersed  throughout  his  private  writings  and 
sermons,  numerous  ejaculations,  and  supplicatory  para- 
graphs ;  but  nothing  intended  exclusively  as  a  prayer. 
His  "  confession  and  form  of  covenant,"  in  a  preceding 
chapter,  bears  the  nearest  resemblance  to  a  prayer  of  any 
thing,  which  has  been  discovered,  from  his  pen  ;  and  will 
give  a  better  idea,  than  any  description,  of  the  leading  im- 
pression which  his  prayers  produced  on  the  hearers,  namely 
— the  infinite  disparity  which  exists  between  God  and  the 
creature — at  the  same  time  that  it  brings  to  view  numer- 
ous particulars,  in  which  this  contrast  may  be  seen. 
"God  is  in  heaven,  and  we  upon  earth" — was  the  great 
truth,  which  stood  forth  with  distinguished  prominence  in 
his  invocations,  confessions,  pleadings,  intercessions,  and 
ascriptions.  His  prayers  conformed  with  singular  felicity 
to  his  own  definition  of  the  exercise,  which  makes  it — "  a 
kind  of  devout  poetry,  the  whole  subject-matter  of  which 
is  furnished  by  the  heart,  and  the  understanding  is  only 
allowed  to  shape  and  arrange  the  effusions  of  the  heart,  in 
the  manner  best  adapted  to  honor  the  Being,  to  whom 
prayer  is  addressed,  and  to  excite  and  direct  the  devotion- 
al feelings  of  his  worshippers." 

But  a  thousand  forms,  of  his  prayers  even,  could  never 
teach  another  to  pray  like  him.  He  neither  found  for  him- 
self, nor  could  he  mark  out  for  others,  a  "  royal  road"  to  the 
throne  of  grace  ;  and  the  "  gift  of  prayer,"  for  which  he 
was  so  eminent,  was  not  attained  without  corresponding 
efforts  on  his  part.  It  was  by  his  daily  retired  practice, 
that  he  became  so  skilful  and  prevailing  a  pleader  with 
his  God.  There  can  be  no  doubt  on  this  point.  His 
journal,  through  several  successive  years,  records  repeated 
seasons  of  prayer,  for  almost  every  day,  together  with  tlie 
state  of  his  affections,  and  the  exercise,  or  want,  of  those 
graces,  which  constitute  the  "  spirit  of  supplication."  It 
requires  much  of  a  devotional  spirit  even  to  read  these 
perpetually  recurring  descriptions,  of  his  '  wrestling  in 
prayer,'  of  his  '  near  access  to  the  mercy-seat,'  as  well  as 
of  those  difRculties  which  sometimes  barred  his  approach. 
When  the  inventive  character  of  his  mind  is  considered, 
its  exquisite  delight  in  every  thing  that  was  original,  these 
records  exhibit  the  most  infallible  evidence  of  his  love  for 
devotion  ;  for  to  an  undevout  mind  they  would  present 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


231 


nothing  but  a  wearisome,  disgusting,  endless  monotony. 
His  continuing  instant  in  prayer,  be  his  circumstances 
what  they  might,  is  the  most  noticeable  fact  in  his  history, 
and  points  oui  the  duty  of  all  who  would  rival  his  eminen- 
cy.  There  is  no  magic  about  it.  "  The  arrow,  that  would 
pierce  the  clouds  must  go  from  the  nerved  arm,  and  the 
bent  bow."  But  if  prayer,  to  be  successful,  must  be  ar- 
dent, so  must  it  be,  not  fitful,  but  habitual. 

If,  however,  he  has  not  left  a  form,  he  has,  happily,  left 
some  thoughts  on  public  prayer,  which  will  be  of  greater 
value,  especially  to  ministers  of  the  gospel ;  and  as,  in  his 
practice,  he  illustrated  his  own  instructions,  a  stranger  to 
him  may  obtain  from  them  a  more  correct  account  of  his 
manner,  than  from  any  description  of  it  by  another  hand. 

"  WHAT  ARE  THE  PRINCIPAL  EXCELLENCIES  WHICH  SHOULD 
BE  CULTIVATED,  AND  THE  DEFECTS  WHICH  SHOULD  BE 
AVOIDED,  BY  MINISTERS  OF  THE  GOSPEL,  IN  THE  PER- 
FORMANCE OF  THEIR  PUBLIC  DEVOTIONAL  EXERCISES. 

"  The  excellence  of  any  performance  consists  in  its  be- 
ing adapted  to  answer  the  end,  for  which  it  is  designed. 
So  far  as  it  is  not  adapted  to  answer  that  end,  it  must  be 
considered  defective.  The  design  of  public  prayer,  con- 
sidered as  a  part  of  ministerial  duty,  is  to  honor  the  Being 
to  whom  it  is  addressed  ;  and  to  excite  and  direct  the  der 
Totional  feelings  of  his  worshippers.  These  two  objects, 
though  distinct,  are  inseparably  connected,  and  are  to  be 
attained  by  tlie  same  means  ;  for  it  will  ever  be  found,  that 
that  mode  of  performing  the  duly  of  public  prayer,  which  is 
best  adapted  to  promote  the  honor  of  God,  is  l)est  calcula- 
ted to  excite  and  direct  the  devotional  feelings  of  the 
hearers.  That  our  devotional  performances  may  secure 
the  attainment  of  these  united  objects,  they  must  be  the 
echo  of  a  fervently  pious  heart,  guided  by  a  judicious  and 
enlightened  mind,  to  the  voice  of  God,  as  uttered  in  his 
works  and  his  word.  An  expression  of  the  Psalmist  will 
illustrate  my  meaning  :  "  When  thou  saidsl,  Seek  ye  my 
face  ;  my  heart  said  unto  the  thee,  Thy  face.  Lord,  will  I 
seek."  In  a  similar  manner  should  our  public  addresses 
to  God  be  the  echo  of  his  language  to  us.  Our  adorations 
and  a.scriptions  of  praise  should  thus  respond  to  what  he 
has  revealed  of  his  natural  and  moral  perfections  ;  our 


232 


MEMOIR  OF 


confessions,  to  the  charges  which  he  has  preferred  against 
Us,  and  to  the  punishments  with  which  he  threatens  us  ; 
our  petitions  and  intercessions,  to  his  commands,  his  prom- 
ises, and  the  description  he  has  given  of  our  own  wants, 
and  those  of  our  fellow  creatures  ;  and  our  thanksgivings, 
to  the  favors  which  he  has  bestowed  on  ourselves,  our 
countrymen,  and  our  race.  When  our  devotional  per- 
formances thus  echo  back  the  voice  of  God,  we  cannot 
fail  to  promote  both  his  glory,  and  the  edification  of  our 
people.  We  then  follow  a  guide,  which  cannot  mislead 
us  ;  we  express  the  very  feelings,  which  his  language  to 
us  is  designed  and  calculated  to  excite  ;  we  set  our  seal 
to  the  truth  of  his  declarations  ;  say.  Amen,  to  all  that  he 
has  seen  fit  to  reveal  to  us,  and  teach  our  hearers  to  do 
the  same.  Thus,  while  we  avoid  the  too  common  fault  of 
preaching  in  prayer,  our  prayers  will  preach,  and  prove 
no  less  instructive  than  our  sermons.  We  shall,  at  the 
same  time,  excite  them  to  pray,  and  teach  them  how  to 
pray.  While  we  speak,  as  the  mouth  of  our  people  to 
God,  we  shall,  in  an  indirect,  but  most  impressive  manner, 
be  the  mouth  of  God  to  our  people,  and  set  before  them 
their  duty,  as  it  respects  both  faith  and  practice,  in  a  way 
least  calculated  to  offend  ;  and  in  those  solemn  moments, 
when  the  exhibition  of  truth  is  most  likely  to  affect  them. 

If  the  preceding  remarks  be  just,  it  will  be  easy  to  infer 
from  them,  what  are  the  principal  faults  which  should  be 
avoided  by  us,  in  leading  the  devotions  of  our  hearers. 

In  the  first  place,  I  conceive  that  our  devotional  per- 
formances are  too  often  the  language  of  the  understand- 
ing, rather  than  of  the  heart.  It  has  been  observed,  that 
they  should  be  the  echo  of  a  fervently  pious  heart,  guided 
by  an  enlightened  understanding,  to  the  voice  of  God.  It 
is  not,  perhaps,  uncandid  to  remark,  that  our  expressions 
in  public  prayer  are  not  always  guided  by  an  enlightened 
understanding.  But  still  less  frequently,  probably,  are 
they  the  echo  of  a  fervently  pious  heart,  to  the  voice  of 
God.  They  too  often  consist,  almost  entirely,  of  passages 
of  scripture, — not  always  judiciously  chosen,  or  well  ar- 
ranged,— and  common  place  phrases,  which  have  been 
transmitted  down  for  ages,  from  one  generation  of  minis- 
ters to  another,  selected  and  put  together,  just  as  we  would 
compose  a  sermon  or  essay,  while  the  heart  is  allowed  no 


EOWARD  PAYSON. 


23S 


share  in  the  performance  ;  so  that  we  may  more  properly 
be  said  to  make  a  prayer,  than  to  pray.  The  consequence 
is,  that  our  devotional  performances  are  too  often  cold  and 
spiritless  ;  as  the  heart  did  not  assist  in  composing,  it  dis- 
dains  to  aid  in  uttering  them.  They  have  almost  as  much 
of  a  form,  as  if  we  made  use  of  a  liturgy  ;  while  the  pecu- 
liar excellencies  of  a  liturgy  are  wanting.  Our  hearers 
soon  become  familiarized  to  our  expressions,  and  not  un- 
frequently  learn  to  anticipate  them  ;  and  though  they  may 
possibly  be  instructed,  tlieir  devotional  feelings  are  not 
excited. 

"  That  public  prayer  may  produce  its  proper  and  de- 
signed effects  upon  their  hearts,  it  should  be,  if  I  may  so 
express  it,  a  kind  of  devout  poetry.  As  in  poetry,  so  in 
prayer,  the  whole  subject  matter  should  be  lurnished  by 
the  heart  ,  and  the  understanding  should  be  allowed  only 
to  shape  and  arrange  the  effusions  of  the  heart,  in  the 
manner  best  adapted  to  answer  the  end  designed.  From 
the  fulness  of  a  heart,  overflowing  with  holy  affections,  as 
from  a  copious  fountain,  we  should  pour  forth  a  torrent  of 
pious,  humble,  and  ardently  affectionate  leelings  ;  while 
our  understandings  only  shape  the  channel,  and  leach  the 
gushing  streams  of  devotion  where  to  flow,  and  when  to 
stop.  In  such  a  prayer,  every  pious  heart  among  our 
hearers  will  join.  They  will  hear  a  voice  and  utterance 
given  to  their  own  feelings.  They  will  hear  their  own  de- 
sires and  emotions  expressed  more  fully  and  perspicuous- 
ly, than  they  could  express  them  themselves.  Their  hearts 
will  spring  forward  to  meet  and  unite  with  the  heart  of  the 
speaker.  The  well  of  water,  which,  our  Saviour  assures 
us,  is  in  all  who  drink  of  his  Spirit,  will  rise,  and  burst  its 
way  through  the  rubbish  of  worldly  cares  and  affections, 
which  too  often  choke  it,  and  the  stream  of  devotion  from 
many  hearts  will  unite  and  flow  <«n,  in  one  broad  tide,  to 
the  throne  of  Jehovah  ;  while  with  one  mind  and  one 
mouth  minister  and  people  glorify  God.  Such  was  the 
prayer  of  Ezra,  and  such  its  eflfects.  '  And  Ezra  blessed 
the  Lord,  the  great  God. — And  all  the  people  answered, 
Amen,  amen,  with  lifting  up  of  their  hands;  and  they 
bowed  their  heads,  and  worshipped  the  Lord  with  their 
faces  toward  the  ground.' 

"  Leading  the  devotion  of  our  people  in  this  manner, 
20* 


234 


MEMOIR  Of 


will  preserve  us  from  another  fault,  less  important,  indeed, 
but  not  less  common,  than  that  which  has  just  been  men- 
tioned, and  which,  in  part,  is  occassioned  by  it.  It  con- 
sists in  uttering  the  different  parts  of  prayer  in  the  same 
tone.  When  our  prayers  are  the  language  of  the  under- 
standing only,  this  will  always  be  done  ;  but  not  so,  when 
they  flow  from  the  heart.  No  person  need  be  informed, 
that,  in  our  intercourse  with  each  other,  a  different  modi- 
fication of  the  voice  is  employed  to  express  every  different 
emotion  of  the  heart.  No  one  would  expect  to  hear  a 
condemned  malefactor  plead  for  his  life,  and  return  thanks 
for  a  pardon,  in  the  same  tone.  And  why  is  it  not  equal- 
ly unnatural  for  sinful  beings,  condemned  to  eternal  death, 
to  plead  for  pardon,  and  return  thanks  for  its  bestowal  in 
the  same  tone  ?  Yet  how  often  is  this  done  1  How  often 
do  we  hear  prayers  flow  on,  from  the  commencement  to 
the  close,  in  the  same  uniform  tone,  with  scarcely  a  per- 
ceptible inflection  of  the  voice.  Yet  no  two  things  can 
differ  more  widely,  than  the  feelings  which  are  expressed  in 
different  parts  of  the  same  prayer.  Surely,  then,  a  corres- 
ponding difference  ought  to  be  perceived  in  the  modifica- 
tions of  the  voice.  In  every  other  public  expression  of 
our  feelings,  such  a  difference  is  expected  and  required. 
The  effect  of  the  most  eloquent  composition  would  be 
greatly  impaired,  not  to  say  wholly  destroyed,  by  a  deliv- 
ery perfectly  monotonous.  The  effects  of  the  same  cause 
upon  devotional  performances  will  be  similar.  Where  no 
fervency  of  feeling  is  indicated,  it  will  usually  be  found, 
that  none  is  excited  ;  and  since  one  principal  design  ol 
public  prayer  is,  to  excite  the  devotional  feelings  of  the 
hearers,  it  is  evident,  that  a  fault,  which  so  powerfully 
tends  to  defeat  this  design,  cannot  be  a  fault  of  trifling 
consequence.  I  am,  however,  aware  that,  in  attempting 
to  avoid  this  fault,  the  exercise  of  great  care,  and  of  much 
judgment  and  good  taste,  is  requisite,  to  preserve  us  from 
an  affected  or  theatrical  manner,  which  is  a  fault  much 
more  to  be  deprecated.  Still,  I  conceive  that,  when  we 
feel  as  we  ought,  we  shall  find  no  difficulty  or  danger  in 
this  respect.  Our  hearts  will  then,  without  any  effort  on 
our  part,  insensibly  teach  us  to  express  its  emotions  in  a 
corresponding  tone,  and  the  manner  best  adapted  to  ex- 
cite similar  feelings  in  the  breasts  of  our  hearers.    But  if 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


235 


our  devotional  feelings  are  habitually  languid,  if  our  hearts 
do  not  teach  our  lips,  it  is,  perhaps,  advisable  to  aim  at 
nothing  beyond  a  monotonous  solemnity  ;  rather  than,  by 
affecting  what  we  do  not  feel,  to  incur  the  certain  displeas- 
ure of  our  Master,  and  the  probable  contempt  of  our  most 
judicious  hearers.  If  we  have  no  thoughts  or  feelings,  that 
glow,  it  is  worse  than  useless  to  affect  "  words  that  burn." 

"  Another  fault,  which  is  not  unfrequently  found  in  our 
devotional  performances,  I  know  not  how  to  describe  bet- 
ter, than  by  saying,  that  it  consists  in  praying  more  like 
an  awakened,  but  still  impenitent  sinner,  or  more  as  such 
a  character  might  be  supposed  to  pray,  than  like  a  real 
Christian.  Different  causes,  probably,  tend  to  the  adop- 
tion of  this  method.  Some  are  apparently  led  to  it  by 
doubts  respecting  their  own  character.  They  often  sus- 
pect that  they  are  not  truly  pious,  and,  therefore,  fear  to 
utter  the  language  of  a  pious  heart.  Others  seem  to  adopt 
it  in  consequence  of  false  humility.  They  fear  it  would 
be  thought  indicative  of  pride,  should  they  use  expressions 
which  intimate  that  they  think  themselves  to  be  the  real 
disciples  of  Christ.  A  third  class  probably  adopt  this 
method,  with  a  view  to  offer  prayers,  in  which  awakened, 
but  still  impenitent  sinners  may  join.  But  whatever  may 
be  the  motives  which  lead  to  the  adoption  of  such  a  meth- 
od, it  is,  I  conceive,  a  fault  which  ought  to  be  avoided. 
It  is  indeed  a  common,  and,  with  some  limitation,  a  just 
remark,  that  a  minister  is  the  mouth  of  his  people  to  God. 
It  is,  however,  of  the  pious  part  of  his  congregation  only, 
that  he  is  the  mouth.  His  prayer,  then,  should  be  the 
echo,  not  of  an  impenitent,  but  of  a  pious  heart,  to  the 
voice  of  God.  He  should  pray  with  those  who  are  pious, 
and  for  those  who  are  not  so.  Instead  of  praying  that 
himself,  and  those  who  unite  with  him,  may  exercise  the 
feelings  of  a  Christian,  he  shoidd  explicitly  express  those 
feelings.  This  is  necessary  for  his  oWn  sake,  if  he  be 
truly  pious  ;  for  if  he  be  so,  he  cannot  sincerely  utter  the 
language  of  an  impenitent  heart.  It  is  necessary  for  the 
sake  of  his  pious  hearers  ;  for  while  he  is  attempting  to 
form  a  prayer,  in  which  all  may  join,  he  will  utter  many 
expressions  in  which  they  cannot  unite.  It  is  also  neces- 
sary even  for  the  sake  of  his  impenitent  hearers  ;  for  it  is 
highly  important  for  them  to  be  convinced  that  thay  do 


236 


MEMOIR  OF 


not,  and,  with  their  present  feelings,  cannot  pray  ;  and 
nothing  will  tend  more  effectually  to  convince  them  of  this 
important  truth,  than  listening  to  prayers,  in  whicti  truly 
pious  feelings  and  holy  exercises  are  distinctly  expressed. 
For  similar  reasons,  it  is  desirable,  that  we  should  not  al- 
ways pray  in  a  manner  suited  only  to  inexperienced,  weak, 
or  dei  lining  Christians.  Instead  of  descending  to  their 
standard,  we  must  endeavor  to  raise  them  to  ours.  If  we 
wish  our  people  to  feel  dissatisned  with  their  present  at- 
tainments, and  to  become  eminent  Christians,  we  must 
accustom  them  so  hear  the  devotional  language  of  eminent 
Christians,  by  uttering  such  language  in  our  prayers,  if, 
indeed,  we  can  do  it,  without  uttering  what  we  do  not 
feel.  As  an  eagle  tempts  her  young  to  soar  higher  than 
they  would  dare  to  do,  were  they  not  encouraged  by  her 
example,  so  the  minister  of  Christ  should,  occasionally  at 
least,  allure  his  people  to  the  higher  region  of  devotion, 
by  taking  a  bolder  flight  than  usual,  and  uttering  the  lan- 
guage of  strong  faith,  ardent  love,  unshaken  confidence, 
assured  hope,  and  rapturous  gratitude,  admiration,  and  joy. 
Some  of  his  hearers  can,  probably,  at  all  times,  follow  him  ; 
and  many  others,  who,  at  first,  tremble  and  hesitate  ; 
many,  who  would  scarcely  dare  adopt  the  same  language 
in  their  closets,  will  gradually  catch  the  sacred  flame  ; 
their  hearts  will  burn  within  them.  While  their  pastor 
leads  the  way,  they  will  mount  up,  as  on  eagles'  wings,  to- 
ward heaven,  and  return  from  the  house  of  prayer,  not 
cold  and  languid,  as  they  entered,  but  glowing  with  the 
fires  of  devotion.  In  this,  as  well  as  in  other  respects,  it 
will,  in  some  measure,  be  "  like  people  like  priest."  If 
we  thus  strike  the  golden  harp  of  devotion,  we  shall  soon 
find  our  pious  hearers  able  to  accompany  us  through  its 
whole  compass  of  sound,  from  the  low  notes  of  humble, 
penitential  sorrow,  up  to  the  high  heart-thrilling  tones  of 
rapturous  joy,  admiration,  love  and  praise,  which  are  in 
union  with  the  harps  of  the  redeemed  before  the  thronei 
"  Another  fault,  sometimes  found  in  devotional  perform- 
ances which  are  otherwise  unexceptionable,  is  the  want  of 
sutBcient  particularity.  Indeed,  most  of  our  public  prayers 
are  too  general.  They  bring  so  much  into  view,  that 
nothing  is  seen  distinctly.  It  is  well  known,  that,  if  we 
except  sublime  and  terrible  objects,  nothing  affects  the 


EDWARD  PAVSON. 


237 


mind,  unless  it  be  clearly  and  distinctly  perceived.  If  the 
most  admired  descriptive  poems,  and  those  which  produce 
the  greatest  effect  upon  our  feelings,  be  carefully  examin- 
ed, it  will  be  found,  that  they  derive  their  power  to  affect 
us,  almost  entirely  from  a  minute  and  striking  description 
of  a  few  judiciously  selected  particulars.  It  is  the  same 
with  our  devotional  performances.  We  may  praise  God, 
or  confess  sin,  or  pray  for  mercy,  or  return  thanks  for  di- 
vine favor,  in  a  general  way,  without  being  ourselves  af- 
fected, and  without  exciting  the  affections  of  our  hearers. 
But  when  we  descend  to  particulars,  the  effect  is  different. 
The  mind  receives,  drop  after  drop,  till  it  is  full.  We 
should,  therefore,  aim  at  as  great  a  degree  of  particular fty, 
as  the  time  allotted  us,  and  the  variety  of  topics,  on  which 
we  must  touch,  will  allow.  Especially  is  it  important, 
that  we  enter  deeply,  and  particularly,  into  every  part  of 
Christian  experience,  and  lay  open  all  the  minute  ramifi- 
cations and  almost  imperceptible  workings  of  the  pious 
heart,  in  its  various  situations,  and  thus  shew  our  hearers 
to  themselves  in  every  point  of  view.  In  a  word,  our  pub- 
lic prayers  should  resemble,  as  nearly  as  propriety  will  al- 
low, the  breathings  of  a  humble,  judicious,  and  fervently 
pious  Christian,  in  his  private  devotions.  The  prayer  of 
the  pulpit  diflers  too  much — it  should  differ  as  little  as 
possible — from  the  prayer  of  the  closet.  A  neglect,  in 
this  particular,  often  renders  our  performances  uninterest- 
ing and  unacceptable  to  those  whom  we  should  most  de- 
sire to  gratify. 

"  Such,  I  conceive,  are  the  principal  defects,  which  are 
most  frequently  found  in  our  devotional  performances.  It 
is  obvious,  that  they  are  all  occasioned,  either  wholly  or 
in  part,  by  a  languid  state  of  devotional  feeling  ;  and  that 
the  only  effectual  remedy  is  to  be  sought  in  the  diligent 
cultivation  of  a  frame  of  temper  habitually  devout.  That 
a  minister  may  lead  the  devotions  of  his  people  in  the  most 
suitable  and  edifying  manner,  it  seems  indispensable  that 
he  should  possess  a  mind  deeply  imbued  with  divine  truth  ; 
a  mind,  into  the  very  frame  and  texture  of  which  the  doc- 
trines of  revelation  are  wrought ;  and  a  heart,  thoroughly 
broken  and  humbled  for  sin,  and  tremblingly  alive  to  the 
voice  of  God,  and  ever  glowing  with  celestial  fire.  He, 
who,  with  such  a  mind  and  such  a  heart,  lives  much  in 


238 


MEMOIR  OF 


his  closet,  praying,  as  the  apostle  expresses  it,  in  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  habitually  imploring  his  assistance  to  help  his 
infirmities,  will  always  lead  the  devotions  of  his  people  in 
a  judicious,  edifying,  and  acceptable  manner  ;  nor  will  he 
need  the  aid  of  a  precomposed  form.  In  his  prayers,  as 
well  as  in  his  sermons,  he  will  constantly  bring  out  of  his 
treasury  things  new  and  old.  But  if  our  hearts  will  not 
pray,  or  teach  us  in  what  manner  to  cry  to  our  Heavenly 
Father  and  Redeemer,  our  understandings  must;  and  we 
must  either  compose,  or  borrow  forms  for  that  purpose. 
How  far,  in  this  case,  we  can  be  considered  as  called  to 
the  work  of  the  ministry,  or  fitted  for  it,  is  not  for  me  to 
say  ;  but,  surely,  he,  who  can  contemplate  the  wonders  of 
creation,  and  yet  find  nothing  to  say  to  his  Maker ;  still 
more,  he,  who  can  meditate  on  the  mysteries  of  redeeming 
love,  and  behold  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ,  without  feeling  praises  ready  to  burst  spontaneous- 
ly from  his  lips,  has  some  reason  to  fear  that  he  possesses 
little  of  the  spirit  of  heaven  ;  and  that  he  has  never  learn- 
ed that  new  song,  which  none  can  learn  but  those  who  are 
redeemed  from  the  earth  ;  for  with  reference  to  this  sub- 
ject, it  may  be  emphatically  said,  in  the  words  of  inspira- 
tion, '  the  heart  of  the  wise  teacheth  his  mouth,  and 
addeth  learning  to  his  lips.'  " 

Such  public  prayers,  as  he  offered,  were  singularly 
adapted  to  affect  the  minds  of  an  assembly,  and  prepare 
them  for  the  reception  of  religious  truths,  besides  being 
tbe  appointed  means  of  obtaining  the  influences  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  "  to  render  the  word  effectual  to  salvation." 
To  his  ardent  and  persevering  prayers,  must,  no  doubt, 
be  ascribed,  in  a  great  measure,  his  distinguished,  and  al- 
most uninterrupted  success  ;  and  next  to  these,  the  un- 
doubted sincerity  of  his  belief  in  the  truths  which  he  in- 
culcated. His  language,  his  conversation,  and  whole 
deportment,  were  such,  as  brought  home  and  fastened  on 
the  minds  of  his  hearers,  the  conviction,  that  he  believed, 
and  therefore  spoke.  So  important  did  he  regard  such  a 
Conviction  in  the  attendants  on  the  ministry,  that  he  made 
it  the  topic  of  one  of  his  addresses  to  his  clerical  brethren  ; 
and  most  of  his  remarks  on  this  subject  will  here  be  in- 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


239 


troduced,  as  disclosing  one  of  those  great  principles,  which 
formed  the  basis  of  his  ministerial  character. 

"  THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  CONVINCING  OUR  HEARERS  THAT  WE 
BELIEVE  W  HAT  WE  PREACH,  AND  THE  MEANS  NECESSA- 
RY TO  PRODUCE  SUCH  A  CONVICTION  IN  THKIR  MINDS. 

"  The  importance  of  convincing  our  hearers  that  we 
firmly  believe  the  truths  which  we  inculcate,  and  that  by 
this  belief  we  are  habitually  actuated  in  our  conduct,  as 
men,  and  as  ministers,  will  appear  sufficiently  evident  from 
the  fact,  that,  on  their  feeling  such  a  conviction,  the  suc- 
cess of  our  labors  among  them  very  much  depends.  That 
this  is  a  fact,  will  not,  it  is  presumed,  be  denied.  \\  hen 
expressing  a  belief  that  it  is  so,  however,  I  am  far  from 
intending  to  assert,  that  a  conviction  of  a  minister's  sin- 
cerity in  the  minds  of  his  hearers  is  inseparably  connect- 
ed with  ministerial  success.  I  would  not,  even  for  a  mo- 
ment, forget  that,  after  every  human  exertion  possible  has 
been  made,  the  smalle.st  success  is  owing  entirely  to  the 
blessing  of  God ;  nor  that  he  bestows  this  blessing  as 
he  pleases,  in  a  sovereign  way.  I  am  also  fully  aware  of 
the  fact,  that  many  faithful  ministers  of  Christ,  who  have 
exhibited  the  strongest  evidence,  and  produced  in  the 
minds  of  their  hearers  the  fullest  conviction  of  their  sin- 
cerity, have  been  favored  with  this  blessing,  but  in  a 
very  small  degree  ;  while  not  a  few  of  questionable  sin- 
cerity, to  say  the  least,  have,  apparently,  been  made  in- 
atruniental  of  extensive  good. 

"  Still,  though  I  would  by  no  means  estimate  a  minis- 
ter's fidelity  by  his  apparent  success,  I  must  consider  it  as 
a  truth,  to  which  all  will  readily  assent,  that,  generally 
speaking,  no  minister  can  reasonably  expeet  his  labors  to 
be  successful,  whose  life  does  not  exhibit  evidence  of  his 
sincerity  ;  whose  hearers  are  not  convinced  that  he  be- 
lieves the  message  which  he  delivers.  It  is  too  evident 
to  require  proof,  that  without  such  a  conviction,  our  hear- 
ers will  not  even  respect  us  as  men.  Insincerity  is  a  vice 
which,  however  men  may  tolerate  it  in  themselves,  they 
universally  agree  to  despise  and  condemn  in  others  ;  and 
never  do  they  reprobate  it  more  severely,  or  more 
justly,  than  when  it  is  found  in  those  who  minister  at  the 
altar  of  God.    If,  then,  our  hearers  suspect  that  we  are 


240 


MEMOIR  OF 


guilty  of  it ;  if  they  suppose  that  we  attend  to  our  profession, 
merely  as  a  profession,  and  inculcate  doctrines  on  them 
which  we  do  not  ourselves  believe,  they  will  assuredly 
consider  us  as  mercenary  hypocrites,  who  sacrilegiously 
profane  things  most  sacred,  sacrifice  to  vanity,  or  avarice, 
on  the  altar  of  God,  employ  the  cross  of  Christ,  as  a  lad- 
der for  ambition,  and,  consequently,  deserve  to  be  regard- 
ed only  with  abhorrence  and  contempt.  That  the  exist- 
ence of  such  suspicions  in  their  minds  must  most  power- 
fully tend  to  prevent  the  success  of  our  labors,  it  is  needless 
to  remark. 

"  And,  as,  while  our  hearers  entertain  such  suspicions, 
they  will  despise  us  as  men,  much  more  will  they  disre- 
gard us  in  our  official  character,  as  the  ambassadors  of 
Christ.  "  Physician,  heal  thyself,"  will  be  their  secret,  if 
not  open  reply  to  all  our  admonitions,  instructions,  and 
reproofs.  With  what  apparent  attention  soever  they  may 
be  induced  by  worldly  motives  to  treat  our  ministrations, 
many  of  them  will  be  gradually  led  to  consider  the  servi- 
ces of  the  sanctuary  as  a  kind  of  solemn  farce,  designed  to 
impose  on  the  weak  and  ignorant,  in  which  we  are  called 
by  our  profession  to  act  the  principal  part  ;  a  part  which 
requires  us  to  utter  things,  which,  as  we  appear  not  to  be- 
lieve them  ourselves,  they  will  feel  themselves  under  no  ob- 
ligations to  believe  or  obey. 

"  The  well  known,  and  often  quoted  maxim  of  the 
poet, 

Si  vis  me  flere,  dolenduni  est 
Pritnum  ipsi  tibi  

is,  with  a  slight  variation,  peculiarly  applicable  to  the  min- 
isters of  Christ.  If  they  wish  their  hearers  to  believe, 
and  be  affected  by  the  truth  which  they  deliver,  they  must 
first  appear,  at  least,  to  believe,  and  be  affected  by  it 
themselves.  In  vain  will  they  declare,  from  the  pulpit, 
that  God  is  in  this  place,  and  inculcate  the  necessity  of 
%vorshipping  him  with  reverence  and  godly  fear,  while 
their  demeanor  affords  reason  to  suspect,  that  they  are 
themselves  totally  unconscious  of  his  presence.  In  vain 
will  they  teach  that  men  are  entirely  guilty  and  depraved, 
while  they  appear  either  not  to  know,  or  to  habitually  for- 
get, that  they  are  by  nature  children  of  wrath  even  as 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


241 


others.  In  vain  will  they  preach  Christ  crucified,  while 
their  hearers  cannot  take  knowledge  of  them  that  they 
have  been  with  Jesus,  and  they  appear  to  know  him  only 
by  name.  In  vain  will  they,  like  Noah,  that  preacher  of 
righteousness,  warn  mankind  of  an  approaching  flood,  and 
urge  them  to  fly  from  the  wrath  to  come,  while  their  peo- 
ple imagine  that  they  are  not,  like  Noah,  preparing  an 
ark  for  their  own  salvation.  In  vain  will  they  forbid  their 
liearers  to  lay  up  treasure  on  earth,  while  their  own  con- 
duct excites  a  suspicion  that  they  mind  earthly  things  ; 
and  in  vain  will  they  inculcate  heavenly  mindedness,  or 
expatiate  on  the  joys  above,  the  worth  of  the  soul,  and  the 
solemn  realities  of  the  eternal  world,  while  their  lives  pro- 
duce no  conviction  in  the  minds  of  their  people,  that  they 
are  actuated  by  that  faith  which  is  the  substance  of  things 
hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen.  *  In  vain,' 
says  a  celebrated  French  prelate,  '  do  we  preach  to  our 
hearers.  Our  lives,  of  which  they  are  witnesses,  are,  with 
,  the  generality  of  men,  the  gospel  ;  it  is  not  what  we  de- 
clare in  the  house  of  God  ;  it  is  what  they  see  us  practice 
in  our  general  demeanor.  They  look  upon  the  public 
ministry  as  a  stage  designed  for  the  display  of  exalted 
principles,  beyond  the  reach  of  human  weakness,  but  they 
consider  our  life  as  the  reality  by  which  they  are  to  be  di- 
rected.' 

"  But  it  is  saying  too  little  to  assert,  that,  while  suspi- 
cions are  generally  entertained  of  a  minister's  sincerity, 
.  no  beneficial  effects  can  reasonably  be  expected  to  result 
fi-om  his  labors.  In  almost  every  instance,  they  will,  prob- 
ably, be  found  to  produce  effects  positively  mischievous. 
His  unbelief,  whether  real  or  supposed,  will  ever  be  ur- 
ged by  his  hearers  in  vindication  of  their  own.  If  he, 
they  will  say,  whose  profession  leads  him  to  study  the 
scriptures,  and  who  is,  consequently,  well  acquainted  with 
all  the  evidence  in  their  favor,  does  not  sincerely  believe 
>j  their  contents,  why  should  we  ?  In  addition  to  this,  the 
contempt  with  which  he  will  be  regarded,  as  a  man,  and 
as  a  minister,  will  insensibly  extend,  in  a  greater  or  les» 
degree,  to  the  truths  which  he  preaches,  and  to  the  reli- 
gion whose  minister  he  professedly  is.  Many  of  his  hear- 
ers will  be  gradually  led  to  a  conclusion,  to  which  men  are 
of  themselves  sufficiently  prone,  that  all  other  ministers, 
21 


242 


MEMOIR  OB- 


in  past  and  present  ages,  resemble  their  own,  and  that 
Christianity  is  a  system  of  priest-craft  and  delusion,  in- 
vented by  designing  men  for  tlieir  own  benefit,  and  intend- 
ed to  keep  the  ignorant,  weak,  and  credulous  in  awe. 

"  Or  should  they  not,  as  will  doubtless  in  many  instan- 
ces be  the  case,  think  thus  of  Christianity  itself,  they  will 
at  least  form  such  an  opinion  of  the  order  and  denomina- 
tion to  which  we  belong  ;  and  be,  consequently,  led  to 
seek  among  other  sects,  and  even  wild  enthusiasts,  for  that 
religious  zeal  and  sincerity,  which  they  know  ought  to  be 
found  in  all  the  ministers  of  Christ,  but  which  they  im- 
agine is  not  to  be  found  in  us.  And  while  many  of  our 
hearers  will  thus  be  led  into  error  or  speculative  infidelity, 
a  large  proportion  of  those  who  remain  will  infallibly  be- 
come practical  infidels,  or  settle  down  contented  with  a 
meagre  form  of  godliness,  in  perfect  ignorance  of  its 
transforming,  life-giving  power.  It  is  in  vain  to  evade  the 
force  of  these  obvious  truths,  by  urging  tiie  acknowledged 
maxim,  that  the  Bible  is  the  only  rule  of  faith  and  prac- 
tice, that  to  this  alone  men  ought  to  look,  and  that  they 
are  entirely  inexcusable  in  thus  confounding  religion  with 
the  conduct  of  its  ministers,  and  for  the  faults  of  one  con- 
demning the  other.  We  readily  allow,  that  they  are  so. 
But  still,  as  has  been  often  remarked,  we  must  take  men 
as  they  are,  not  as  they  ought  to  be  ;  and  to  the  plea  just 
mentioned  it  is  a  sufficient  reply,  that  the  principle  of  as- 
sociation in  the  human  mind  powerfully  tends  to  produce 
the  effects  here  alluded  to  ;  and  that  such,  in  part,  ever 
have  been  the  effects  of  apparent  insincerity  in  the  minis- 
ters of  Christ.  We  are  far,  however,  from  asserting  or 
supposing,  that  such  effects  may  not  arise  from  other 
causes  ;  or  that  the  prevalence  of  vice  and  error,  among 
a  people,  necessarily  proves  that  their  minister  is  unfaith- 
ful or  insincere.  We  know  that  prejudice  often  renders 
men  blind  to  the  plainest  and  most  unequivocal  proofs  of 
sincerity. 

We  know  that  men  are  naturally  opposed  to  divine  truth, 
and  prone  to  hate  those  who  press  it  upon  them  with  plain- 
ness and  fidelity.  We  are  also  aware,  that  many  of  our 
hearers  scan  our  conduct  with  a  critical  and  malignant 
eye,  and  are  eager  to  discover  something  in  us,  which  may 
furnish  an  excuse  for  their  own  errors,  and  justify  them 


EftWAKD  PAYSON. 


24y 


in  asserting  that  we  do  not  believe  what  we  preach.  But 
it  cannot  escape  your  notice,  my  fatliers  and  brethren, 
that  these  dispositions  while  they  render  it  in  some  cases 
exceedingly  difficult  to  convince  men  of  our  sincerity,  af- 
ford also  most  powerful  reasons  why  we  should  make  the 
attempt.  If  they  are  thus  prone  to  suspect  the  reality  of 
our  belief,  we  must  be  careful  to  afford  them  no  real  or 
apparent  cause  for  suspicion.  If  they  scan  our  conduct 
with  a  critical  and  malignant  eye,  we  must  give  double 
diligence  to  render  it  irreproachable.  And  if  they  natu- 
rally hate  those  truths,  which  duty  requires  us  to  preach, 
it  becomes  us  to  see  that  their  hatred  derives  no  excuse  or 
palliation  from  our  temper  or  practice.  They  must,  if 
possible,  be  constrained  to  feel  a  conviction,  that,  in  de- 
claring these  offensive  truths,  we  are  actuated,  not  by 
mercenary  views,  nor  by  bigotry,  moroseness,  or  severity 
of  temper  ;  but  by  an  imperious  sense  of  duty,  and  by  a 
tender,  deep,  and  unfeigned  concern  for  the  glory  of  God, 
and  the  salvation  of  their  souls  ;  that  we  are  not  marking 
out  one  path  for  them,  and  another  for  ourselves,  but  that 
we  watch  for  their  souls  as  those  who  know  that  they  must 
give  an  account  ;  and  that  we  habitually,  and  uniformly 
seek,  not  their  wealth,  their  applause,  their  friendship, 
but  their  salvation.  That  it  is  possible,  in  most  instan- 
stances,  to  produce  and  maintain  this  conviction  in  the 
minds  of  men,  is  evident  from  facts.  That  the  first 
preachers  of  the  gospel  succeeded  in  doing  it,  cannot  be 
denied.  While  they  were  accused  of  almost  every  other 
crime,  they  seem  never  to  have  been  even  suspected  of  in- 
sincerity. They  could  say  publicly,  without  fear  of  con- 
tradiction— for  they  knew  that  their  whole  conduct  and 
even  the  consciences  of  their  enemies  bore  testimony  to 
the  truth  of  their  assertions, — "  we  believe  and  therefore 
speak."  "  Knowing  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  we  persuade 
men:"  "If  we  be  beside  ourselves,  it  is  to  God  ;  and  if 
we  be  sober,  it  is  for  your  cause ;  for  we  seek  not  yours, 
but  you  ;  and  we  will  very  gladly  spend  and  be  spent  for 
you,  though  the  more  abundantly  we  love  you,  the  less  we 
beloved.  As  of  sincerity,  as  of  God,  in  the  sight  of  Clod 
speak  we  in  Christ.  For  we  are  manifest  unto  God,  and 
we  trust,  also,  are  manifest  in  your  consciences." 

*'  But  the  situation  of  things,  at  the  present  day,  is  eome^ 


244 


MEMOIK  0*' 


what  different.  While  we  are  seldom  charged  with  other 
faults,  we  are,  not  unfrequently,  suspected,  and  even  ac- 
cused of  insincerity  ;  of  not  really  believing  what  we 
preach.  It  is  a  melancholy  fact,  that  multitudes  among  us 
appear  to  consider  the  ministry  merely  as  a  profession  ; 
and  to  suppose  that  we  preach  the  gospel,  only  because  it 
is,  in  the  view  of  men,  a  professional  duty.  They  seem 
not  to  imagine  that  we  expect,  or  even  wish,  that  they 
should  believe  the  message  which  we  bring.  To  account 
for  this  melancholy  fact,  is  no  part  of  my  present  design. 
Whether  it  is  owing  to  the  bold  assertions  of  our  enemies, 
to  the  prevalence  of  sectarism  and  infidelity,  or  to  some- 
thing in  our  own  conduct,  is  not  for  me  to  determine  ; 
but  certain  it  is,  that  ministers  of  our  denomination,  are, 
by  very  many,  regarded  as  mercenary  hirelings,  who 
"  prophesy  for  reward,  and  divine  for  money."  Surely, 
then,  it  becomes  us,  my  fathers  and  brethren,  to  do  every 
thing  in  our  power  to  remove  these  injurious  impressions, 
and  to  convince  both  our  hearers  and  others,  that,  like  the 
apostles,  we  believe,  and  therefore  speak. 

"  The  means  necessary  for  the  production  of  this  effect, 
will  next  demand  our  attention. 

"  What  means  are  necessary  for  this  purpose  we  may 
learn  in  two  different  ways. 

"  We  may  learn  them  from  a  careful  attention  to  the 
conduct  of  the  first  preachers  of  Christianity.  That  they 
succeeded  in  convincing  men  of  their  sincerity,  we  have 
already  seen.  And  since,  in  similar  circumstances,  the 
same  causes  ever  produce  similar  effects,  we  may  reason- 
ably hope,  by  imitating  their  example,  to  produce  a  simi- 
lar conviction  in  the  minds  of  our  hearers. 

"  The  means  necessary  for  this  purpose,  may  be  infer- 
red, also,  from  a  consideration  of  the  nature  and  effects  of 
faith,  as  described  by  the  inspired  writers.  They  inform 
us,  that  it  is  "  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the 
evidence  of  things  not  seen."  It  enables  those  who  pos- 
sess it  "  to  endure  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible."  It 
gives  unseen  things  a  substance,  a  reality,  an  existence  in 
the  mind.  It  does,  as  it  were,  clothe  them  with  a  body, 
and  thus  leads  those  who  possess  it,  to  feel  and  act,  in 
some  measure,  as  they  would  do,  were  the  objects  of  faith 
made  visible  :  were  God  and  Christ,  and  heaven  and  hell 


EnWABl)  TAYSON. 


240 


rendered  objects  of  sense.  If,  then,  we  would  convince 
our  liearers,  that  we  possess  this  i'aith,  we  must  conduct 
in  a  similar  manner.  In  other  words,  we  must  imitate  the 
temper  and  conduct  of  the  apostles  ;  for  it  will  appear, 
on  a  moment's  reriection,  that  these  different  methods  of 
ascertaining  the  means  necessary  to  convince  men  oi  out 
sincerity  lead  to  precisely  the  same  result. 

"  A  general  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  a  minister 
would  conduct,  to  whom  the  great  objects  of  faith  were 
rendered  visible,  may  easily  be  formed.  He  would  feel 
that  God  is  all  in  all,  that  his  favor  is  the  one  thmg  need- 
ful, that  his  displeasure  is  the  only  thing  dreadtul,  and 
that  to  a  minister  nothing,  comparatively  speaking,  is 
worth  knowing  or  making  known,  but  Jesus  Christ  and 
him  crucified.  He  would  feel,  that  the  temporal  happi- 
ness of  kingdoms,  and  even  of  worlds,  is  nothing,  in  com- 
parison with  the  salvation  of  a  single  soul.  \\  ith  suclj 
feelings  his  conduct  would  correspond.  While  he  con- 
templated the  broad  road,witli  the  multitudes  who  throng 
it,  and  the  destruction  in  which  it  ends,  his  compassion, 
grief,  and  zeal  would  be  most  powerfully  excited,  and  lead 
him  to  make  every  possible  e.\evtion  to  snatch  his  hearers 
as  brands  from  the  burning.  '  Knowing  the  terrors  of  the 
Lord,  he  would  persuade  men.'  In  the  peribrmance  of 
this  duty,  he  would  be  instant  in  season,  and  out  of  sea- 
son, and  preach  the  word,  not  only  publicly  iu  the  house 
of  God,  but  privately  and  from  house  to  house.  In  a  word 
he  would  give  himself  wholly  to  his  work  ;  conse- 
crate to  it  all  the  powers  of  his  body  and  mind,  and  pur- 
sue tlie  grand  object  of  saving  himself  and  them  that  heard 
him  with  unabated  ardor  and  activity,  to  the  close  of  lite. 

"  The  influence  of  the  great  objects,  which  he  beholds, 
would  appear  also  in  his  manner  of  performing  ministerial 
duties.  In  his  public  approaches  to  the  throne  of  grace, 
he  would  exhibit  a  personification  of  reverence  and  godly 
fear,  and  evince  that  he  was  addressing  a  present  being  ; 
that  he  felt  himself  immediately  under  the  eye  of  a  holy, 
heart-searching  God.  While  he  would  make  supplication 
for  iiimself  and  his  people,  like  one  who  was  pleading  for 
life,  at  the  bar  of  his  judge  ;  every  word  and  accent  would 
show  that  he  was  deeply  convinced  of  his  guilt  and  sinful- 
ness, that  he  felt  the  need  of  a  Mediator  :  that  ne  felt,  also. 
21* 


240 


MEMOIR  OP 


that  holy,  humble  confidence,  which  the  sight  of  such  fl 
Mediator,  as  Christ,  is  calculated  to  inspire. 

"  In  delivering  his  message,  as  an  ambassador  of  Christ, 
he  would  shew  that  he  felt  deeply  penetrated  with  a  con- 
viction of  its  truth  and  infinite  importance.  He  would 
speak  like  one  whose  whole  soul  was  filled  with  his  sub- 
ject. He  would  speak  of  Christ  and  his  salvation,  as  a 
grateful,  admiring  people  would  speak  of  a  great  and  gen- 
erous deliverer,  who  had  devoted  his  life  for  the  welfare  of 
his  country.  He  would  describe  religion,  as  a  traveller 
describes  a  country  through  which  he  has  leisurely  passed, 
or  as  an  aged  man  describes  the  scenes  of  his  former  life 
He  would  portray  the  Christian  warfare,  as  a  veteran  por- 
trays a  battle,  in  which  he  has  just  been  contending  for 
liberty  and  life.  He  would  speak  of  eternity,  as  one  whose 
eye  had  been  wearied  in  attempting  to  penetrate  its  un- 
fathomable recesses,  and  describe  its  awful  realities,  like  a 
man  who  stood  on  the  verge  of  time,  and  had  lifted  the  veil 
which  conceals  them  from  the  view  of  mortals.  '  Thoughts 
that  glow  and  words  that  burn,'  would  compose  his  public 
addresses  ;  and  while  a  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his  official 
character,  and  the  infinite  importance  of  his  subject,  would 
lead  him  to  speak,  as  one  having  authority,  with  indescri- 
bable solemnity,  weight,  and  energy  ;  a  full  recollection, 
that  he  was  by  nature  a  cliild  of  wrath,  and  that  he  was 
addressing  fellow  men,  fellow  sinners,  mingled  with  com- 
passion for  their  wretched  state  and  an  ardent  desire  for 
their  salvation,  would  spread  an  air  of  tenderness  over  his 
discourses,  and  invest  him  with  that  affectionate,  melting, 
persuasive  correctness  of  manner,  which  is  best  calculated 
to  affect  and  penetrate  the  heart.  To  say  all  in  a  word, 
he  would  speak  like  an  ambassador  of  him,  who  spake  as 
never  man  spake,  and  who  could  say,  we  speak  what  we 
do  know,  and  testify  what  we  have  seen. 

"  Nor  would  the  great  objects,  which  he  beheld,  lose 
their  influence  when  he  descended  from  the  sacred  desk. 
Wherever  he  went,  they  would  still  surround  him,  and 
their  overwhelming  importance  would  annihilate  in  his 
mind  the  importance  of  all  other  objects.  Wherever  he 
went,  he  would  see  before  hirn  immortal  beings,  who  were 
either  heirs  of  glory,  or  children  of  perdition  ;  pilgrims 
on  their  way  to  heaven,  or  travellers  to  hell.    To  awaken„ 


EDWARD  PAY  SON. 


24t 


convince,  and  convert  the  one,  and  to  animate,  instruct, 
and  comfort  the  other,  would  be  the  great  object  of  his 
private  conversation,  as  well  as  of  his  public  addresses  ; 
and  the  prosecution  of  this  object  would  leave  him  neither 
leisure  nor  inclination  to  attend  to  secular  concerns,  any 
farther  than  absolute  necessity  required.  Feeling,  that 
he  watched  for  souls,  as  one  who  must  give  an  account, 
and  knowing  the  secret  errors,  mistakes,  and  delusions, 
into  which  men  are  prone  to  fall,  he  would  be  anxious  to 
acquire  as  perfect  a  knowledge,  as  possible,  of  the  reli- 
gious character,  views,  and  feelings,  of  every  individual  in 
his  flock,  and  would  improve  every  favorable  opportunity 
for  this  purpose.  Nor,  while  employed  in  cultivating  the 
vineyard  of  others,  would  he  forget  or  neglect  nis  own  ; 
but  would  labor  to  save  liiniseli',  as  well  as  to  secure  the 
salvation  of  them  that  heard  him.  He  would  be,  emphat- 
ically, a  man  of  prayer,  and,  like  his  divine  Master,  would 
often  retire  and  ascend  the  mount  to  converse  with  God, 
and  draw  from  the  Fountain  of  life  fresh  supplies. 

"  It  is  needless  to  add,  that  he  would  not  be  conformed 
to  the  world,  nor  seek  its  honors,  wealth,  or  applause. 
With  a  fixed  and  steadfast  eye,  he  would  contemplate 
things  unseen  and  eternal,  and  count  neither  the  joys  nor 
the  sufferings  of  the  present  lile,  worthy  to  be  compared 
with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed.  Thus  his  life,  as  well 
as  his  sermons,  would  preach  ;  his  official  character  would 
never  be  laid  aside,  or  forgotten  ;  his  sincerity  would  be 
manifest  to  the  consciences  of  his  hearers,  and  all  would 
exclaim,  with  one  voice,  "  this  man  believes,  and  there- 
fore speaks." 

"  Such,  my  fathers  and  brethren,  would  probably  be  a 
minister,  who  saw  what  wo  all  proless  to  believe.  Such 
were  the  first  preachers  of  the  gospel  ;  and  such,  in  some 
degree  at  least,  must  we  be,  if  we  would  convince  men  of 
our  sincerity.  We  must  imitate  the  example  of  the  apos- 
tles, and  exhibit  the  influence  of  that  faith,  which  the 
scriptures  describe,  in  the  discharge  of  our  public  official 
duties.  In  the  performance  of  these  duties,  we  must 
not  confine  ourselves  within  those  limits,  which  sloth  or 
negligence  first  introduced,  and  which  custom  has  sanc- 
tioned. We  must  not  restrict  our  labors  to  the  stated  and 
ordinary  services  of  the  sanctuary.    These  our  hearers 


248 


MEMOIR  Of 


expect.  For  these  they  imagine  that  we  are  paid.  Their 
regular  perlbriuance  is  therelore  considered,  and  justly  so, 
as  atfording  no  prooi'  of  our  sincerity.  To  evince  the  reality 
of  our  belief,  something  more  is  necessary.  We  cannot 
reasonably  expect  our  hearers  to  believe  that  we  sincerely 
and  earnestly  desire  their  salvation,  while  we  do  nothing 
more  to  promote  it,  than  custom,  or  a  regard  to  our  repu- 
tation requires  ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  conceive  how  they  can  sup- 
pose, that  we  really  believe  them  to  be  constantly  exposed 
to  endless,  remediless  ruin,  while  we  warn  them  of  their 
danger  on  the  Sabbath  only,  and  appear  to  Ibrget  their 
perilous  situation,  during  the  remainder  of  the  week.  If 
we  wish  tiiem  to  feel  convinced,  that  such  is  their  situa- 
tion, and  that  we  really  believe  it  to  be  so,  we  must  show 
them  that  we  fix  no  limits  to  our  labors,  but  those  which 
necessity  prescrioes. 

"  Of  little,  if  any,  less  importance  is  it,  that  we  exhibit 
the  influence  and  etfects  of  faith  in  our  manner  of  per- 
forming ministerial  duties.  However  frequently  or  plain- 
ly we  may  warn  our  hearers,  if  we  address  iliein  only  in  a 
cold,  unfeeling  manner,  we  can  scarcely  expect  them  to 
feel  convinced  of  our  sincerity.  Such,  evidently,  was  not 
the  manner  in  which  the  hrst  preachers  of  Ciirislianity  in- 
culcated its  doctrines.  St.  Paul  could  say,  when  bidding 
farewell  to  his  Ephesian  hearers,  "  I  ceased  not  to  warn 
every  one  of  you,  night  and  day,  with  tears."  Considering 
the  sanguine  temperament  of  the  apostle,  and  the  ditier- 
ent  constitutions  and  dispositions  of  men,  it  cannot,  per- 
haps, be  reasonably  demanded  or  expected,  that  every 
minister  should  be  able  to  say  this  ,  though,  if  any  thing 
can  justly  call  for  tears,  it  must  be  the  situation  of  our  im- 
penitent hearers ;  and  to  weep  in  contemplation  of  the 
miseries,  which  they  are  bringing  upon  themselves,  is 
highly  becoming  in  the  ministers  of  him,  who  wept  over 
rebellious  Jerusalem.  To  say  the  least,  some  degree  of 
apparent  earnestness,  zeal,  and  fervor,  seems  requisite,  to 
stamp  our  public  discourses  with  an  air  of  sincerity  ;  and 
when  the  natural  disposition  renders  it  impossible  to  man- 
ifest much  warmth  of  feeling,  as  in  many  cases  it  undoubt- 
edly does,  it  is  peculiarly  necessary  that  its  absence  should 
be  supplied  by  increased  solemnity  and  energy  in  the  dis- 
pensation of  truth.    Mankind  are  so  constituted,  that  it  is 


EDWAKl)  I'AYSON. 


249 


exceedingly  difficult,  not  to  say  impossible,  for  them  to 
believe  that  a  speaker  is  in  earnest,  who  does  not  appear 
to  be  interested  in  his  subject,  or  who  delivers  interesting 
and  important  truths  in  a  manner,  which  betrays  a  total 
want  of  feeling  ;  and  never  are  they  less  ready  to  excuse 
such  a  manner, — never,  indeed,  is  it  less  excusable, — than 
when  found  in  those  who  preach  the  glorious  gospel  of  the 
blessed  God,  and,  in  his  name,  warn  sinners  to  fly  from 
the  wrath  to  come.  It  is,  doubtless,  to  their  adoption  of 
a  more  warm,  and  impassioned  mode  of  address,  that  the 
influence  of  sectarian  preachers  over  the  minds  of  com- 
mon hearers,  is  to  be  principally  ascribed.  It  is  this,  which 
gives  their  loose  and  desultory,  but  vehement  harangues, 
an  air  of  sincerity,  an  appearance  of  flowing  warm  from 
the  heart,  which  our  more  correct  and  methodical  dis- 
courses do  not  always  possess,  but  which  is  almost  indis- 
pensably necessary  to  the  production  of  a  general  belief 
that  we  are  sincere.  In  making  these  observations,  I 
would  not,  however,  be  understood  to  intimate,  that  an 
apparent  want  of  fervency,  zeal  and  animation,  affords,  in 
all  cases,  just  cause  for  questioning  a  minister's  sincerity  ; 
or  that  the  degree  of  real  feeling  is  always  in  proportion  to 
the  outward  expressions  of  it.  We  readily  allow,  that 
many  may  firmly  believe  the  truths  they  deliver,  and  feel 
deeply  interested  in  their  success,  and  yet,  in  consequence 
of  a  constitutional  coolness  and  evenness  of  temper,  dis- 
play less  warmth  and  animation,  than  others,  who  are  far 
below  them  in  real  faith,  and  religious  sensibility.  Still, 
we  cannot  believe  that  it  is  impossible  for  any  one,  whose 
heart  glows  with  the  sacred  fire  of  love  and  zeal,  to  preach 
in  such  a  manner,  as  to  leave  in  the  minds  of  his  hearers 
no  doubt  of  his  sincerity,  or  of  his  earnest  desire  to  effect 
their  salvation. 

"  If  this  be  important,  it  is,  if  possible,  still  more  so, 
that  we  exhibit  the  influence  and  effects  of  faith  in  our 
more  private  intercourse  with  society.  '  It  is  here,'  says  a 
celebrated  English  prelate,  '  that,  I  concieve,  we  of  the 
clergy  are  apt  to  fail  We  do  not  always,  in  the  common 
intercourse  of  life,  appear  sufficiently  penetrated  with  the 
importance  of  our  function,  or  sufficiently  assiduous  in 
promoting  the  ends  of  our  mission.'  '  I  could  name  in- 
stances,' says  another  divine,  *  where  it  has  appeared  to 


•250 


MEMOIR  OP 


me,  that  ihe  probable  good  effects  of  a  very  faithful  testi- 
mony in  the  pulpit,  iiave,  humanly  speaking,  been  wholly 
defeated  by  too  successtul  endeavors  to  be  agreeable  out 
©fit.'  These  remarks,  though  made  with  reference  to 
the  English  clergy,  are  but  m  too  many  instances  applica- 
ble to  the  divines  of  our  own  country  ;  and  they  suggest, 
at  once,  much  important  instruction  and  reproof  It  is 
doubtless  right,  to  associate  with  all  classes  among  our 
hearers,  and  even  with  publicans  and  sinners  ;  but  it  must 
be  only,  or  principally,  with  a  design  to  instruct  and  re- 
form them.  It  is  also,  not  only  right,  but  a  duty,  to  be- 
come all  things  to  all  men,  so  far  as  we  lawfully  can  ;  but 
our  only  object  in  doing  it,  must  be  by  all  means  to  save 
some  ;  and  if  the  object  be  not  kept  steadily  in  view,  if 
religious  conversation  be  not  introduced,  on  all  proper 
occasions,  on  all  occasions,  which  1  hrist  and  his  apos- 
tles would  have  thought  proper  for  this  purpose,  our  so- 
cial intercourse  with  our  hearers  will  certainly  become  a 
snare  to  lis,  and  a  stumbling  block  to  them  ;  and,  per- 
haps, more  than  counteract  the  good  effects  of  all  our 
public  addresses.  If  we  lay  aside  our  official  character, 
and  feel  as  if  we  had  discharged  all  our  official  duties, 
when  we  descend  from  the  sacred  desk ;  if,  while 
associating  with  our  impenitent  hearers,  we  appear  to 
forget  their  character,  and  the  awfully  dangerous  situation 
in  which  they  stand,  they  will  certainly  forget  it  too,  and 
probably  doubt  whether  we  really  believe  it  ourselves. 
Should  a  physician  assure  a  number  of  his  patients,  that 
their  symptoms  were  highly  alarniing,  and  their  diseases 
probably  mortal,  and  then  sit  down  and  converse  on  tri- 
fling subjects,  with  an  air  of  quiet  indifference  or  levity, 
what  would  be  their  inference  from  his  conduct  ?  Would 
they  not  unavoidably  conclude,  either  that  he  did  not 
really  consider  their  situation  as  dangerous,  or  that  he  w  as 
grossly  deficient  in  sensibility,  and  in  a  proper  regard  to 
their  feelings?  So  if  our  impenitent  hearers  see  us,  after 
solemnly  assuring  them  from  the  pulpit,  that  they  are 
children  of  disobedience,  children  of  wrath,  and  momen- 
tarily exposed  to  the  most  awful  punishment,  mingling  in 
their  society  with  an  apparent  unconsciousness  of  their 
perilous  situation  ;  conversing  with  earnestness  on  secu- 
lar affairs  ;  and  seldom  oj  never  introducing  topics  strict* 


EmVAUD  PAYSON. 


251 


iy  religious,  or  embracing  private  opportunities  to  warn 
them  of  their  danger,  what  must  they  suppose  1  If  they 
reflect  at  all,  must  they  not  unavoidably  conclude,  either 
that  we  do  not  believe  their  situation  to  be  such  as  we 
have  represented  it,  or  that  we  are  totally  devoid,  not 
only  of  benevolence, compassion,  and  religious  sensibility  ; 
but  even  of  the  common  feelings  of  humanity  ?  It  is 
needless  to  remark,  that  either  conclusion  would  be  far 
from  producing  favorable  ideas  of  our  sincerity,  or  minis- 
terial faithfulness.  If,  then,  we  wish  that  such  ideas 
should  be  entertained  by  our  people,  we  must  convince 
them  by  our  conduct,  that  we  never  forget  our  character, 
our  duty,  or  their  situation. 

"  Tiie  conviction  of  our  cordial  belief  of  the  truths  we 
deliver,  which  such  a  discharge  of  the  ministerial  duty 
will  produce  in  the  minds  of  our  hearers,  must  be  seated 
and  maintained  by  a  corresponding  life.  Unaccompanied 
with  this,  all  other  means  will  be  in  vain.  '  Example,' 
says  a  French  prelate,  '  is  the  ground  work  of  a  minister's 
character.'  *  In  vain,'  he  adds,  'do  we  preach  to  our 
hearers.  Our  life,  of  which  they  are  witnesses,  is,  with 
the  generality  of  men,  the  gospel.  It  is  not  what  we  de- 
clare in  the  house  of  God,  it  is  what  they  see  us  practice 
in  our  general  demeanor.'  If,  then,  we  would  maintain  a 
conviction  among  our  hearers,  that  we  are  sincere,  our 
conduct,  as  well  as  our  sermons,  must  preach  ;  and  if  the 
former  contradicts,  or  does  not  coincide  with  the  latter,  no 
good  effects  can  be  reasonably  expected  to  follow.  We 
must,  therefore,  be  able,  though  we  may  not  think  proper 
to  say,  with  the  apostle,  "  Be  ye  followers  of  me,  even  as 
I  am  of  Christ.  The  things  which  ye  have  received,  and 
learned,  and  heard,  and  seen  in  me,  do,  and  the  God  of 
peace  shall  be  with  you."  If,  says  archbishop  Usher  to 
his  clergy,  '  if  practical  Christian  piety,  benevolence,  and 
self  government,  with  constant  zeal  to  promote  them  all 
upon  earth,  are  not  the  first  and  chief  qualities,  which  your 
parishioners  and  acquaintance  will  ascribe  to  you  ;  if  they 
will  speak  of  you  as  noted  on  other  accounts,  but  pass  over 
these  articles  in  silence,  and  when  asked  about  them,  be 
at  a  loss  what  to  say,  excepting,  possibly,  that  they  know 
no  harm  of  you,  all  is  not  right  ;  nor  can  such  a  clergy 
answer  the  design  of  its  institution  any  where,  nor  even 


252 


MEMOIR  OP 


maintain  its  ground  in  a  country  of  freedom  and  learning.' 
God  grant  that  the  clergy  of  this  country  may  never,  by 
evincing  the  want  of  these  qualities,  frustrate  the  all  im- 
portant end  of  their  ministry,  nor  render  it  impossible  for 
them  to  maintain  their  ground  against  the  assaults  of  error, 
vice,  and  infidelity." 

Had  this  description  of  the  "  good  minister  of  Jesus 
Christ"  been  drawn  by  another  hand,  the  familiar  acquain- 
tances of  Dr.  Payson  might  well  have  supposed  that  him- 
self sat  for  the  picture ;  so  accurately  did  the  grand  fea- 
tures of  his  ministerial  character  correspond  with  this  de- 
lineation. Here  is,  unquestionably,  the  standard  of 
excellence,  which  he  had  prescribed  to  himself,  and  at 
which  his  aims  were  continually  directed.  And  whatever 
might  have  been  the  degree  of  those  deficiences,  which  he 
so  frequently,  and  so  pathetically  laments,  as  to  the  spirit 
and  temper,  with  which  he  discharged  his  official  duties, 
it  is  doubted  whether  the  most  scrutinizing  observer  was 
ever  able  to  detect  in  his  practice  any  material  variation 
from  this  standard.  Often  did  his  clear  exhibitions  of 
truth,  and  his  full  and  plain  exposures  of  the  obliquities  of 
men,  prove  the  occasion  of  bitter  and  outrageous  feelings 
in  the  bosoms  of  many  ;  but  rarely,  indeed,  could  the  in- 
dividual be  found,  who  ventured  to  express  a  doubt  of  his 
honesty  and  sincerity.  He  was  always  in  earnest;  and 
"commended  himself  to  every  man's  conscience  in  the 
sight  of  God." 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


253 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Pastor  in  action — Methods  of  exciting,  sustaining, 
and  extending  a  due  interest  in  religious  concerns — 
Preaching,  administration  of  ordinances,  Church  Fast, 
Conference,  Inquiry  Meetings. 

Although  most  of  the  preceding  chapter,  if  changed 
from  the  didactic  form  to  that  of  narration,  would,  for  the 
extent  to  which  it  reaches,  present  a  true  history  of  its 
author  :  yet  there  are  other  details  from  his  own  pen,  in- 
terspersed throughout  his  familiar  correspondence,  which 
will  be  found  scarcely  less  instructive,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  exhibit  a  fuller  developement  of  the  nature,  extent, 
and  variety  of  his  pastoral  labors.  We  shall  commence 
our  extracts  with  a  letter,  written  in  1812,  to  a  young 
clergyman,  then  recently  settled  in  the  ministry,  who  had 
sought  his  instruction  and  advice  on  the  subject  of  pasto- 
ral duties.  It  has  already  been  stated,  that  Mr.  Payson 
was  now  the  sole  pastor  of  the  church  ;  and  it  was  in  this 
year,  that  thirty-one  of  its  members  were  separated  from 
it,  and,  by  a  distinct  organization,  constituted  the  "Chapel 
Congregational  Church  in  Portland,"  over  which  Mr. 
Kellogg  was  placed  as  pastor.  The  vacancy  hereby  cre- 
ated was  more  than  filled — forty-eight  persons  being  ad- 
ded to  the  church  within  the  same  year.  It  was  distin- 
guished, beyond  former  years,  for  "the  fruits  of  the  Spirit." 

"Dear  Brother — Your  letter,  requesting  'information 
and  advice,'  has  just  reached  me.  I  rejoice  in  the  cir- 
cumstances that  led  to  such  a  request.  I  rejoice  still 
more,  that  you  feel  "ignorant,  and  inexperienced,  and 
inadequate  to  the  charge  which  has  devolved  upon  you." 
We  must  feel  so,  or  we  shall  meet  with  little  success. 

"I  can,  however,  assure  you,  for  your  encouragement, 
that  you  cannot  possibly  be  more  ignorant  and  inexperi- 
enced than  I  was,  at  the  time  of  my  settlement.  I  knew 
just  nothing  at  all  of  my  business ;  but  I  knew  a  little,  O 
22 


254 


TVtEMOIU  OF 


how  little !  of  my  own  ignorance.  This  led  me  to  pray 
almost  incessantly  ;  and  somehow  or  other,  I  have,  as  I 
trust,  been  preserved  from  fatal  mistakes,  and  not  suffered 
to  ruin  either  myself  or  my  people,  as  I  sometimes  feared 
that  I  should.  He  who  has  thus  guided  me,  and  thou- 
sands of  others  equally  foolish,  will,  I  trust,  guide  you. — 
The  best  advice  I  can  giveyou,  is  to  look  to  Him.  This  I 
doubt  not  you  do  ;  but  you  cannot  do  it  too  much.  If  we 
would  do  much  for  God,  we  must  ask  much  of  God ;  we 
must  be  men  of  prayer  ;  we  must,  almost  literally,  pray 
without  ceasing.  You  have  doubtless  met  with  Luther's 
remark  ;  "Three  things  make  a  divine — prayer,  medita- 
tion, and  temptation."  My  dear  brother,  I  cannot  insist 
on  this  too  much.  Prayer  is  the  first  thing,  the  second 
thing,  and  the  third  thing  necessary  for  a  minister,  es- 
pecially in  seasons  of  revival.  The  longer  you  live  in  the 
ministry,  the  more  deeply,  I  am  persuaded,  you  will  be 
convinced  of  this.  Pray  then,  my  dear  brother,  pray,  pray, 
pray.  Read  the  account  of  Solomon's  choice.  I.Kings, 
iii.  5 — 15.  If,  like  him,  you  choose  wisdom,  and  pray 
for  it,  it  will  be  yours. 

The  next  thing  in  importance  is,  as  I  conceive,  that 
your  church  should  be  excited  to  pray  for  the  influences 
of  the  Divine  Spirit ;  and  that  they  should  frequently  meet 
for  this  purpose.  For  though  private  prayer  may  be  as 
effectual,  it  does  not  so  directly  tend  to  honor  God,  as  that 
which  is  more  public.  God  converts  sinners  for  his  own 
glory,  and  he  will  have  all  the  glory  of  their  conversion. 
Nothing  tends  more  directly  to  give  him  the  glory,  than 
social  prayer.  In  that  duty  we  explicitly  acknowledge, 
not  only  to  him,  but  to  our  fellow-creatures,  that  nothing 
but  the  influences  of  his  Spirit  can  render  any  means  ef- 
fectual, and  that  we  are  entirely  dependant  for  those  in- 
fluences on  his  sovereign  will.  In  a  word,  we  acknowl- 
edge that,  in  the  conversion  of  sinners,  he  is  all,  and  we 
are  nothing. 

With  respect  to  those  who  are  awakened,  I  conceive  it 
is  our  duty  to  act  as  fellow  workers  with  the  Divine  Spir- 
it:  to  insist  principally  on  those  truths  of  which  he  first 
convinces  them,  and  to  endeavor,  both  by  our  preaching 
and  conversation,  to  bring  them  to  the  same  point  to  which 
he  aims  to  bring  them.    This  point  is  complete  self-de- 


KDVVAKB  PAYSON. 


255 


spair,  and  hope  in  Christ.  The  former  is  a  pre-requisite 
to  the  latter.  I  therefore  aim,  in  the  first  place,  to  in- 
crease their  c-nvictions  of  sins,  especially  of  the  great, 
damning  sin  of  unbelief  If  they  ask,  what  shall  we  do? 
I  never  dare  give  them  any  other  answer,  than  that  given 
by  Christ  and  his  apostles :  "Repent,  and  believe  the 
gospel."  I  insist  much  on  the  cliaracter  of  God  ;  the 
strictness,  extent  and  spirituality  of  his  law;  the  various 
artifices,  deceptions,  and  excuses  of  the  heart;  the  false 
hopes  of  sinners  and  hypocrites,  the  nature  of  true  and 
false  conversion,  and  the  great  danger  of  being  deceived. 
I  also  firequently  warn  them  of  the  dreadful  consequences 
of  delaying  repentance,  grieving  the  Spirit,  losing  their 
convictions,  or  resting  on  false  hopes,  like  the  stony  ground 
hearers.  I  labor  especially  to  convince  them  that  all  the 
difficulties  which  oppo.se  their  salvation  lie  in  their  own 
hearts ;  that  Christ  is  willing  to  save  them,  but  they  are 
unwilling  to  be  saved  in  his  way,  and  are,  therefore,  with- 
out excu.se.  This  is  a  very  important  point.  1  have 
seen  none  go  back  who  appeared  to  be  truly  convinced  of 
this.  In  addition  to  this,  1  say  much  of  the  glory,  beauty, 
and  sufficiency  of  Christ,  and  of  the  perfect  freeness  of 
the  blessings  which  he  offers,  and  endeavor  to  show  them 
the  horrid  pride,  ingratitude,  &lc.,  of  neglecting  to  ac- 
cept of  them.  These  are  some  of  the  principal  subjects 
on  which  I  preach  to  inquirers.  You  will  easily  deter- 
mine what  are  the  most  proper  texts  from  which  to  ex- 
plain and  enforce  them. 

With  respect  to  our  inquiry  meetings,  I  can  only  tell 
you,  that  we  have  them  once  a  week,  afternoons  lor  fe- 
males, evenings  for  mules.  It  is  difficult  to  persuade 
them  to  converse  as  freely  as  might  be  wished.  You  will 
find,  however,  as  your  experience  increases,  that  it  is  of 
little  consequence  whether  they  say  much  or  not,  as  a  sin- 
gle sentence  will  often  give  you  as  perfect  a  view  of  their 
character  and  feelings,  as  you  could  acquire  from  the 
longest  conversation.  But  if  you  wish  them  to  converse 
with  you  with  freedom,  you  must  visit  them  at  home. — 
Your  greatest  danger  will  be  in  comforting  themtoosoon. 
AH  comfort  is  dangerous,  till  they  surrender  uncondi- 
tionally to  the  sovereign  grace  of  God.  It  is  much  safer 
to  err  on  the  other  side." 


256 


MEMOIR  OF 


The  extract,  which  follows,  describes  the  origm  of  a 
meeting  that  was  long  continued,  and  signally  blessed. 

Nov.  14,  1814. 
"Three  weeks  since,  I  preai'ched  to  the  young,  from 
the  words  of  Christ,  when  twelve  years  old — "I  must  be 
about  my  Father's  business."  At  the  close  of  the  ser- 
mon, I  invited  all  the  young  men,  who  were  fully  deter- 
mined to  engage  immediately  in  their  Father's  work,  to 
meet  me  in  the  evening  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  told 
them  I  was  not  confident  that  any  of  them  would  come. 
However,  about  forty  attended.  After  stating  to  them 
the  difficulties,  and  temptations  they  would  meet  with, 
and  the  sacrifices  they  must  make  in  a  religious  course,  I 
advised  them  to  consider  of  it  a  fortnight ;  and,  if  they 
still  felt  resolved  to  persevere,  to  meet  me  again.  About 
thirty  came  the  second  evening ;  and  though  I  cannot 
calculate  upon  all,  or  even  the  major  part  of  them  be- 
coming Christians,  yet  I  hope  some  of  them  will." 

Two  or  three  times,  during  his  ministry,  he  adopted 
what  would  be  generally  regarded  as  bold  measures ; 
and  they  would  have  been  absolutely  rash  and  injurious, 
had  they  not  originated  in  a  sincere  and  glowing  zeal  for 
God,  and  the  eternal  welfare  of  men.  It  would  be  haz- 
ardous for  another  to  imitate  him  herein,  without  some 
portion  of  his  spirit.  Yet  who,  that  estimates  the  worth 
of  the  soul,  will  dare  to  censure  his  conduct,  or  say  that 
the  importance  of  the  object  was  not,  at  least,  commen- 
surate with  his  zeal  ? 

Feb.  21,  1815. 
"We  have  a  great  revival  commencing.  We  liave 
been  expecting  it,  some  time ;  and,  a  few  weeks  since,  at 
the  close  of  a  suitable  sermon,  I  informed  the  congrega- 
tion that  I  believed  God  was  about  to  bless  us ;  and  told 
them  that  the  quarterly  Fast  of  the  church  was  at  hand, 
and  that,  if  they  would  consent  to  unite  with  the  church 
in  the  Fast,  we  would  meet  in  the  meeting  house,  instead 
of  the  conference  room,  where  we  usually  assemble  on 
such  occasions.  At  the  same  time,  I  invited  those,  who 
were  willing  to  meet  the  church,  to  signify  it  by  rising. 


jEDWAKI)  fayson. 


257 


About  two  thirds  of  the  congregation  instantly  rose.  It 
was  a  most  solemn  scene.  The  church,  to  whom  the 
measure  was  altogether  unexpected,  were  almost  over- 
whelmed with  various  emotions,  and  scarcely  knew 
whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry,  to  hope  or  fear.  You  may 
well  suppose,  that  the  interval  between  the  Sabbath  and 
the  Fast  was  a  trying  season  to  me.  I  felt  that  I  had 
completely  committed  myself ;  that  niy  all  was  at  stake  ; 
thai  if  a  blessing  did  not  attend  the  measure,  every 
mouth  would  be  open  to  condemn  it ;  and  it  seemed  as  if 
I  could  hardly  survive  a  disappointment.  I  should  not 
have  taken  such  a  step,  had  1  not  believed  I  had  suffi- 
cient reason  for  trusting  that  (iod  would  bear  me  out  in 
it ;  and  I  thought,  if  he  did  not  bear  nie  out,  I  never 
should  again  know  what  to  expect ,  never  should  feel 
confidence  to  pray.  I  expected  severe  trials,  but  had 
few  fears  of  the  event.  The  trials  came ;  but  they  did 
not  come  in  the  way  that  I  expected,  and,  therefore,  I 
was  surprised  and  overcome  by  them.  The  day  of  the 
Fast  was  the  most  dreadful  day  of  my  life  ;  the  day,  in 
which  I  had  most  dreadful  proofs  of  more  than  diabolical 
depravity  of  heart.  The  meeting  house  was  full,  but 
things  did  not  go  on  in  the  manner  1  had  hoped  and  ex- 
pected. I  thought  all  was  lost ;  and  I  now  wonder  that  I 
lived  through  it ;  that  a  broken  heart,  as,  Mr.  Newton 
says,  disappointed  pride  and  madness  are  called,  was  not 
the  consequence.  For  some  days,  I  saw  and  heard  no- 
thing encouraging,  and  my  di.stress  was  unabated ;  but, 
at  the  next  inquiry  meeting,  I  found  more  tiian  sixty 
inquirers.  This  number,  within  a  week,  was  considera- 
bly increased,  and  eight  or  ten  have  obtained  comfort. — 
The  prospect  is  now  more  encouraging,  than  it  has  been 
since  my  settlement." 

Below  is  an  incidental  mention  of  the  multiplicity  of 
his  labors,  from  which  may  be  inferred  the  despatch,  with 
which  he  habitually  executed  his  appropriate  work. 

May  21,  1816. 

"My  avocations  were  never  so  numerous.    I  have  two 
sermons,  which  I  wish,  if  possible  to  prepare  for  the  press, 
but  fear  I  never  shall  find  time.    I  have  also  three  ordi- 
22* 


258 


MEMOIR  OF 


nation  sermons  to  preach  within  two  months — sermoDS 
before  two  missionary  societies  within  the  same  time,  and 
on  tlie  second  Sabbath  in  July  I  have  an  engagement  to 
preach  in  Portsmouth,  before  the  Managers  of  the  Female 
Asylum.  Besides  this,  I  preach  four  sermons  and  attend 
two  inquiry  meetings  weekly,  &c.  &c.  Judge,  then, 
whether  I  am  not  worn  out,  and  whether  I  do  not  need 
your  prayers  more  than  ever.  As  to  a  revival,  my  wish- 
es for  it  are  not,  cannot  be  too  strong,  if  they  are  disinter- 
ested, and  not  selfish.  Though  I  am  wearing  myself  out, 
it  is,  I  sometimes  fear,  rather  in  the  service  of  self,  than 
in  the  service  of  God,  and  this  reflection  embitters  every 
thing  I  do.  It  would  be  heaven  to  labor  for  God  ;  but  it 
is  misery  to  labor  for  one's  self  As  to  the  slang  you 
heard  about  a  revelation,  I  need  not  tell  you  that  there 
is  no  truth  in  it.  However,  I  hope  the  Lord  has  some 
people  yet  to  be  gathered  in  here.  We  have  admitted 
thirty-three,  since  the  year  came  in,  and  nine  stand  pro- 
pounded ;  the  number  of  inquirers  about  one  hundred,  and 
?lowly  increasing." 

April  13,  1820. 
"We  have  some  encouraging  appearances,  as  we  have 
often  had  before,  but  nothing  decisive.  Last  Sabbath,  I 
invited  the  male  part  of  the  parish,  who  were  willing  to 
be  considered  inquirers  after  religion,  to  meet  me  in  the 
evening.  Between  thirty  and  forty  attended  ;  but  I  fear 
that  very  few  of  them  are  deeply  impressed.  We  have 
about  the  same  number  of  females,  who  are  in  a  similar 
state ;  and  it  seems,  as  it  has  for  a  long  time,  that  if  God 
would  work  a  little  more  powerfully,  there  would  be  a 
great  revival.    But  I  desire  to  wait." 

August  6,  182L 
"As  to  my  desires  for  a  revival,  I  have  not,  and  never 
had  the  least  doubt  that  they  are  exceedingly  corrupt  and 
sinful.  A  thousand  wrong  motives  have  conspired  to 
excite  them.  Still  I  do  not  believe,  that  my  desires  were 
ever  half  so  strong,  as  they  ought  to  be  ;  nor  do  I  see  how 
a  minister  can  help  being  in  a  "constant  fever,"  in  such 
a  town  as  this,  where  his  Master  is  dishonored,  and  souls 
are  destroyed  in  so  many  ways.    You  can  scarcely  con- 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


2i>9 


ceive  how  many  things  occur,  ahnost  daily,  to  distress 
and  crush  me.  All  these  are  nothing,  when  my  Master 
is  with  me ;  but  when  he  is  absent,  I  am  of  all  men  most 
miserable.    But  now  he  is  with  me,  and  I  am  happy. 

We  have  just  set  up  a  meeting  on  a  new  plan.  Notes, 
to  this  effect,  are  put  into  a  box  at  the  door  :  "A  member 
of  this  church  desires  prayers  for  the  conversion  of  a  hus- 
band, a  child,  a  parent,  &-c.,  as  the  case  may  be."  These 
notes  are  then  read,  and  prayeis  are  offered.  We  have 
had  but  one  meeting.  The  evening  was  rainy  ;  but  near- 
ly forty  notes  were  given  in,  and  it  was  the  most  solemn 
meeting  we  have  had  for  a  long  time.  Among  the  notes 
were  two  from  persons,  who  think  they  were  deceived, 
when  they  made  a  profession  of  religion,  desiring  prayers 
that  they  may  be  truly  converted.  The  church  has  also 
had  a  day  of  thanksgiving,  lately,  to  acknowledge  what 
God  has  done  for  us,  and  it  was  a  comfortable  season. — 
These  things  give  me  some  encouragement,  but  we  have 
been  so  often  disappointed,  that  1  scarcely  dare  to  hope." 

A  letter  to  a  young  Clergyman,  written  soon  after  the 
preceding  extract,  contains  a  still  more  complete  sketch  of 
his  labors  at  this  time.  It  has  been  extensively  copied  by 
the  religious  periodicals  of  the  country,  one  of  which  pro- 
fesses to  be  'shocked  at  his  expressions  in  relation  to  re- 
vivals,'as  indicating  'that  temerity  which  would  rely  on 
the  impotent  arm  of  the  creature.'    If  his  language  is  sus- 

■ceptibleof  such  a  construction,  it  most  unhappily  misrep- 
resents his  judgment  and  his  heart.  For,  though  he  was 
"abundant  in  labors,"  no  man  ever  ascribed  less  ejiciency 

.to  means,  or  felt  more  entirely  his  exclusive  dependance 
upon  the  Holy  Spirit. 

"Portland,  Aug.  17,  1821. 
"My  DEAR  Brother, — I  have  just  received  your  kind 
letter,  and  hope  it  has  done  me  some  good.  I  thank  you 
for  it,  though  tiie  perusal  of  it  has  given  me  much  pain. 
It  is  evident  that  you  think  far  more  favorably  of  me 
than  I  deserve ;  and  your  applying  to  me  for  advice, 
shames  and  mortifies  me  exceedingly.  But  I  dare  not 
say  what  I  feel  on  this  subject,  lest  you  should  think  me 
humble ; — which  is  far  enough  from  being  the  case.  Be- 


260 


JIKMOIK  OF 


sides,  you  wish  me  to  write  respecting  myself  and  my 
labors;  and  this  is  the  very  subject  on  which  I  am  most 
unwilling  to  write,  because  I  find  it  most  dangerous.  It 
affords  an  opportunity  for  gratifying  an  accursed  spirit  of 
self-seeking,  which  has  ever  been  my  bane  and  torment, 
and  which  insinuates  itself  into  every  thing  I  say  or  do. 
I  know  not  thai  I  have  ever  spoken  ol'  myself  without 
furnishing  cause  for  sorrow  and  shame.  How,  then,  can 
I  write  as  you  request  me  to  do  ?  Or  what  can  I  say,  that 
will  be  of  any  service  to  you '?  But  you  will  reply  that 
God  can  bless  the  feeblest  means.  True,  and,  therefore, 
I  will  write,  though  I  Ibresee  that  I  shall  smart  for  it. 

You  ask  for  a  general  view  of  my  pastoral  labors,  meth- 
od of  preaching,  &lc.  &lc.  Since  the  failure  of  my 
health,  I  preach  but  three  sermons  in  a  week  ;  two  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  one  on  Thursday  evening.  On  that  eve- 
ning, and  Sabbath  morning,  1  preach  without  notes  ;  but 
generally  form  a  skeleton  of  my  sermon.  I  should  like 
to  write  more,  but  my  health  will  not  permit ;  and  I  find 
that  when  any  good  is  done,  it  is  my  extempore  sermons 
which  do  it.  I  am  afraid  of  producing  a  faith  which 
stands  not  in  the  power  of  God,  but  in  the  wisdom  of 
men  ;  and,  therefore,  make  as  little  use  as  possible  of  hu- 
man arguments,  but  confine  myself  to  a  plain,  simple  ex- 
hibition of  divine  truth.  The  sword  of  the  Spirit  will 
not  wound,  it  it  has  a  scabbard  on  it.  I  also  aim  to  preach 
the  truths  of  the  gospel  in  a  practical  and  experimental, 
rather  than  a  dry  and  speculative  manner.  In  preaching 
to  professing  Christians,  I  endeavor  to  rou.se  and  humble, 
rather  than  to  comfort  them;  for  if  they  can  be  kept  hum- 
ble, comfort  will  follow  of  course.  Besides,  I  do  not  sup- 
pose that  Christians  need  as  much  consolation  now,  as 
they  did  in  the  primitive  ages,  when  exposed  to  perse- 
cution. 

Our  church  is  divided  into  seven  districts  ;  the  mem- 
bers of  each  district  meet  for  prayer  and  conversation 
once  a  month,  and  the  brethren  residing  in  each  district, 
are  a  standing  committee  of  the  church  for  that  district 
supply  the  wants  of  the  poor,  and  bring  before  the  church, 
in  due  form,  any  case  of  discipline  which  may  occur. — 
We  have  a  monthly  meeting  of  all  the  brethren  for  busi- 
ness— a  church  conference  every  Tuesday  evening — a 


KDWAUD  FAYSON. 


261 


prayer  meeting  on  Friday  evening — a  monthly  prayer 
meeting  for  the  Sabbath  Schools — and  the  Monthly  Union 
Concert  for  prayer.  We  have  also,  an  inquiry  meeting 
for  males,  on  Sabbath  evening,  and  for  females,  on  Fri- 
day afternoon. 

As  to  method  in  the  division  of  time,  I  have  none  ;  but 
live  altogether  extempore.  This  is  partly  owing  to  the 
wretched  state  of  my  health,  which  deprives  me  of  at  least 
three  days  in  every  week,  and  partly  to  continual  inter- 
ruptions from  visiters,  whom  I  must  see.  I  knew  not 
how  to  bear  this,  till  I  met  with  the  following  maxim  of 
an  eminent  minister  :  "  The  man  who  wants  mc,  is  the 
man  I  ivant." 

My  rule  in  regard  to  visiting,  is  to  visit  as  much  as 
time  and  health  will  permit.  I  make  none  but  pastoral 
visits.  I  gave  my  people  to  understand,  when  I  was  set- 
tled, that  they  must  never  invite  me  to  dine  or  sup  when 
they  did  not  wish  to  have  the  conversation  turn  wholly  on 
religious  subjects.  This  has  saved  me  much  tinie  and 
trouble. 

The  books  which  I  have  found  most  useful  to  me  are, 
Edwards's  Works,  Brainerd's  Life,  Newton's  Letters, 
Owen's  Treatise  on  indwelling  Sin,  Mortification  of  Sin 
in  Believers,  and  the  130th  Psalm,  and  Thomas  a  Kem- 
pis's  Imitation  of  Christ,  translated  by  Payne — for  Stan- 
hope's translation  I  think  not  so  good.  If  you  have  not 
seen  Thomas  a  Kempis,  I  bog  you  to  procure  it.  Some 
.things  you  will  not  like,  but  for  spirituality  and  weaned- 
ness  from  the  world,  I  know  of  nothing  equal  to  it.  Per- 
haps I  ought  to  include,  in  the  above  list,  Baxter's  Re- 
formed Pastor,  and  Saint's  Rest. 

It  would  require  a  volume  to  detail  the  experiments  I 
have  made,  and  the  means  I  have  u.sed  to  effect  a  revival 
of  religion,  and  after  it  was  written,  it  would  not  be  worth 
reading.  I  will  however  just  mention  what  we  are  doing 
Qow.  We  have  established  a  prayer  meeting  on  the  fol- 
lowing plan.  Members  of  the  church,  and  others,  if 
they  think  proper,  present  notes  requesting  prayers  for  the 
conversion  of  any  friend  or  relative  for  whom  they  feel 
anxious.  No  names  are  mentioned.  The  notes  are  pla- 
ced in  a  small  box  by  the  door,  and  afterwards  handed  to 
me  to  be  read.    We  have  had  two  meetings.    They  were 


262 


MEMOIR  OF 


uncommonly  solemn,  and  many  of  the  notes  were  very 
affecting.  One  was,  "A  female  stranger  desires  your 
prai/ers  for  her  conversion."  Another,  "One  of  the  so- 
ciety desires  your  prayers  for  the  conversion  of  her  hus- 
band and  iicrself."  Several  were  from  old  professors  who 
fear  that  they  have  been  deceived,  and  a  great  number 
from  husbands,  wives,  and  parents,  desiring  prayers  for 
their  partners,  children,  &c.  When  we  come  to  spread 
all  these  cases  before  God  as  the  only  giver  of  good  things, 
the  scene  was  awfully  solemn  and  affecting. 

4^  ^  ^  ^  ■it' 

I  think  with  you,  that  the  management  of  a  revival  is  a 
very  difficult  thing.  It  is,  I  believe,  a  subject  as  yet  but 
very  imperfectly  understood.  At  least,  I  know  but  very 
little  of  it. 

I  think  I  can  conceive,  in  some  measure,  of  the  incon- 
venience you  experience  in  consequence  of  the  great  ex- 
tent of  your  parish.  It  must  be  exceedingly  difficult  to 
collect  your  church  together  as  often  as  you  would  wish, 
and  to  perform  ministerial  duties.  A  minister,  however, 
who  has  but  a  small  parish,  is  required  to  do  all  that  he 
can,  and  you  are  required  to  do  no  more.  Still  it  is  ex- 
ceedingly painful  to  see  many  things  which  seed  to  be 
dene,  but  which  we  cannot  find  time  or  strength  to  do. 
My  parish,  as  well  as  my  heart,  very  much  resembles  the 
garden  of  the  sluggard  ;  and  what  is  worse,  I  find  that 
most  of  my  desires  for  the  melioration  of  both,  proceed 
either  from  pride  or  vanity  or  indolence.  I  look  at  the 
weeds  which  overspread  my  garden,  and  breathe  out  an 
earnest  wish  that  they  were  eradicated.  But  why  ?  What 
prompts  the  wish  ?  It  may  be  that  I  may  walk  out  and  say 
to  myself,  "In  what  fine  order  is  my  garden  kept !"  This 
is  pride.  Or  it  may  be  that  my  neighbors  may  look  over 
the  wall  and  say,  "How  finely  your  garden  flourishes !" 
This  is  vanity.  Or  I  may  wish  for  the  destruction  of  the 
weeds  because  I  am  weary  of  pulling  them  up.  This  is 
indolence.  Yet  from  such  sources,  I  fear,  do  most  of  my 
desires  for  personal  holiness,  and  for  the  progress  of  reli- 
gion in  my  society,  proceed.  I  hope  and  trust  it  is  oth- 
erwise with  you. 

As  I  write  with  perfect  freedom,  1  will  take  the  liberty 
to,  mention  one  thing  raore,  which,  if  I  always  attended 


EOWAUD  PAYSON. 


263 


to  it,  would,  I  believe,  be  highly  beneficial.  The  disci- 
ples, we  read,  "returned  to  Jesus,  and  told  him  all  things, 
both  what  they  had  done  and  what  they  had  taught."  I 
think  that  if  we  would  every  evening,  come  to  our  Mas- 
ter's feet,  and  tell  him  where  we  have  been,  what  we  have 
done,  what  we  have  said,  and  what  were  the  motives  by 
which  we  have  been  actuated,  it  would  have  a  salutary 
effect  upon  our  whole  conduct.  While  reading  over 
each  day's  page  of  life,  with  the  consciousness  that  He 
was  reading  it  with  us,  we  should  detect  many  errors  and 
defects,  which  would  otherwise  pass  unnoticed.  Pardon 
thi.s  hint.    I  trust  you  do  not  need  it. 

I  have  written  a  long  letter,  and  yet,  I  fear,  said  noth- 
ing which  will  be  of  the  smallest  service  to  you.  But  you 
must,  as  our  kind  Master  does,  take  the  will  for  the  deed. 
May  He  fill  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  with  faith, 
and  make  you  instrumental  of  adding  much  people  to  the 
Lord.    So  prays  your  sincere  friend." 

The  feelings  which  prompted  and  sustained  his  rest- 
less activity  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  men, 
very  frequently  disclose  themselves  in  his  correspondence 
and  diary. 


"I  do  not  think  you  understand  my  feelings  about  a 
revival.  Unless  I  am  very  much  deceived,  I  have  no 
controversy  with  God  respecting  it.  But  ought  a  minis- 
ter to  feel  easy,  while  his  people  are  perishing,  and  Chris- 
tians are  dishonoring  their  Master Did  not  Paul  feel 
great  heaviness,  and  continual  .sorrow  of  heart,  for  his 
countrymen  ?  All  the  joy  and  gratitude  he  felt,  in  view  of 
what  God  had  done  for  him,  and  by  him,  could  not  re- 
move that  sorrow.  And  the  prophet  would  weep  day  and 
night,  for  the  daughter  of  his  people.  Instead  of  feeling 
less,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to  feel  more,  and  to  have 
no  rest.  But  I  do  not  murmur  at  God's  dealings.  I  only 
wonder  that  he  ever  did  any  thing  for  me  or  by  me ;  and 
that  he  has  not,  long  since,  cast  me  out  of  his  vineyard. 
As  to  the  bed-ridden  female  you  mention,  I  see  nothing 
very  wonderful  in  her  rejoicing  and  gratitude.  Well  may 
she  rejoice  and  be  grateful  when  she  is  filled  full  of  dt- 


Dec.  26,  1621. 


264 


MEMOIR  OF 


vine  consolation.  She  has  outward  trials,  it  is  true  ;  but 
what  are  they,  when  Christ  is  present  ?  Who  wants  can- 
dles, when  he  has  the  sun  ?  Give  me  her  consolations,  and 
I  will  sing  as  loud  as  she  does.  And  let  her  have  my 
showers  of  fiery  darts,  and  my  other  trials,  and,  unless  I 
am  much  mistaken,  she  will  groan  as  much  as  I  do.  I 
have  seen  very  young  Christians  terribly  afflicted  by  bod- 
ily pain  and  sickness,  for  months  together,  and  all  the 
time  full  of  joy  and  thankfulness ;  and  I  have  seen  the 
same  persons  afterwards,  when  they  were  surrounded  by 
temporal  mercies,  show  very  little  of  either. — Things 
seem  to  be  a  little  on  the  mending  hand;  and  the  church 
are  again  beginning  to  hope  for  a  revival.  Last  Sabbath 
was  an  uncommonly  solemn  day." 

Aug.  20,  1823. 

"It  has  been,  and  still  is,  a  season  of  spiritual  deadness 
among  us.  I  have  preached  so  plainly,  especially  to  the 
church,  that  I  feared  they  would  not  bear  it,  and  that  we 
should  come  to  an  open  rupture.  However,  they  have 
borne  it  very  well ;  and  there  seems  now  to  be  more  of  a 
disposition  among  them  to  make  exertion  ;  but  it  is  im- 
possible to  say  what  the  result  will  be. 

"If  you  have  not  written  to  ,  lately,  it  would  be 

well  to  cheer  him  with  a  letter.  Poor  man  !  he  seems  to 
be  just  entering  on  Newton's  second  stage,  the  charac- 
teristic of  which,  you  recollect,  is  conflict.  However,  I 
trust  he  will  be  carried  safely  through.  I  wish,  with  all 
my  heart,  that  Satan  would  fight  against  the  peace  of 
some  of  our  churcli,  more  than  he  does.  But  he  is  too 
cunning  to  do  that.  He  sees  that  they  are  slumbering, 
and  he  will  take  care  not  to  wake  them.  You  can  scarce- 
ly form  an  idea,  how  soporific  the  air  of  a  «ea-port  is ;  nor 
of  the  irresistible  force  with  which  the  world  assails  Chris- 
tians in  such  a  place  as  this.  The  moment  they  step  out 
of  doors,  it  rushes  in  at  their  eyes  and  ears,  in  ten  thou- 
sond  shapes,  so  that,  unless  their  hearts  are  pre-occupied 
with  better  things,  they  are  filled  with  it  in  a  moment. — 
By  turns,  I  expostulate,  and  plead,  and  warn,  and  threat- 
en, and  weep,  and  pray,  and,  sometimes,  almost  scold; 
but  all  in  vain.  The  world  drags  away  its  victims,  and 
langhs  my  feeble  efforts  to  scorn." 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


265 


Dec.  5,  1823. 
"A  few  weeks  since,  I  set  up  a  Bible  Class  for  young 
persons  over  fourteen  years  of  age.  About  two  hundred 
and  fifty  attend,  and  some  of  them  appear  interested  ;  but 
none  are  awakened  as  yet.  However,  God  must  have 
some  chosen  ones  among  the  rising  generation,  and  he 
will,  sooner  or  later,  bring  them  in  ;  but  I  fear  that  all, 
or  nearly  all,  who  have  passed  the  meridian  of  life — I 
mean  in  my  society — are  given  over  to  final  hardness  of 
heart." 

Jan.  31,  1824. 

"Yesterday  was  our  quarterly  Fast,  and  I  pursued  a 
new  method.  I  first  confessed  my  own  sins  to  the 
church,  asked  their  forgiveness;  and  then  requested  them 
to  unite  with  me  in  praying  that  God  would  forgive  me, 
and  ordain  me  afresh  as  their  pastor.  I  then,  having,  as 
I  hope,  cast  the  beam  out  of  my  own  eye,  proceeded  to 
take  the  mote  out  of  the  eye  of  my  brethren.  I  first  call- 
ed upon  the  deacons  to  follow  my  e.xample,  if  they  thought 
proper,  by  confessing  their  sins,  and  appointing  one  of 
their  number  to  lead  in  prayer,  that  they  might  be  forgiv- 
en. A  similar  call  was  then  made  upon  the  brethren,  and, 
after  that,  upon  the  sisters,  for  whom  I  acted  as  mouth. 
A  great  deal  was  said,  which  I  cannot  write,  but  for  want 
of  which,  you  will  not  fully  understand  our  method  of  pro- 
ceeding, nor  all  the  reasons  of  it.  It  must  suffice,  to  say, 
that  we  attempted  to  obey,  on  a  large  scale,  the  exhorta- 
tion of  James — "Confe.ss  your  faults  one  to  another,  and 
pray  for  one  another,  that  ye  may  be  healed."  I  cannot 
but  hope,  that  it  will  prove  to  have  been  a  profitable  sea- 
son, and  that  a  blessing  will  follow  it." 

May  2,  1825. 

"I  returned,  last  week,  on  Wednesday,  preached  a 
preparatory  lecture  on  Thursday,  attended  the  church 
quarterly  Fast  on  Friday,  prepared  for  the  Sabbath  on 
Saturday,  and,  yesterday,  preached  twice,  administered 
the  sacrament,  and  addressed  and  prayed  with  the  bap- 
tised youth.  The  consequence  is,  that  I  am  only  half 
alive,  this  morning.  L.  and  a  young  lady  who  boards 
23 


266- 


MEMuiii  or 


with  us,  were  very  much  aiFected  by  the  address  to  bap- 
tised youtli.  They  wept  all  the  last  evening,  and  appear 
very  solemn,  this  morning  ;  but  L.  has  so  often  been  af- 
fected in  a  similar  manner,  that  I  dare  not  promise  myself 
much  from  present  appearances.  It  is,  however,  evi- 
dent, that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  constantly  striving  with  her ; 
she  is  never  perfectly  at  ease,  and,  I  cannot  but  hope,  she 
will,  ere  long,  become  a  subject  of  grace. 

"In  a  religious  view,  things  remain  with  us  very  much 
as  they  have  been,  though  I  think  the  church,  or  some  of 
them,  at  least,  are  becoming  more  alive  than  they  were. — 
I  have  lately  had  some  delightful  meditations  on  the  priest- 
hood of  Christ.  I  was  led  to  them  by  thinking  how  a 
penitent  Israelite  must  have  regarded  his  High  Priest. 
We  may  consider  such  a  man  as  saying — "I  am  a  miser- 
able, polluted  sinner.  I  cannot  enter  the  Holy  Place, 
where  God  dwells,  but  am  kept  at  a  distance.  I  cannot 
burn  incense  acceptably,  cannot  be  permitted  even  to  of- 
fer my  own  sacrifice.  But  I  have  a  High  Priest,  appoint- 
ed and  consecrated  by  God,  who  is  permitted  to  approach 
him  on  my  behalf  He  carries  my  name,  or  the  name  of 
my  tribe,  on  his  breast-plate.  He  olTers  sacrifice /or  me. 
He  burns  incense  for  me  ;  he  enters  the  most  Holy  Place, 
and  sprinkles  atoning  blood  for  me.  In  him  I  am  ac- 
cepted ;  and  in  him  will  I  glory.  Take  away  my  High 
Priest,  and  you  take  away  my  all ;  but  while  I  have  him, 
while  he  is  accepted  in  my  behalf,  I  will  exult  and  re- 
joice." And  with  how  much  more  reason  may  the  Chris- 
tian triumph  and  glory  in  his  Great  High  Priest,  and  re- 
joice that  he  is  "accepted  in  the  Beloved."  I  do  not 
mention  these  thoughts,  as  any  thing  new  ;  but  as  thoughts, 
which  have  been  peculiarly  sweet  and  precious  to  me,  of 
late.  Yet,  alas  !  I  am  continually  seeking  to  be  my  own 
High  Priest,  to  find  something  in  myself,  for  the  sake  of 
which  I  may  be  accepted,  at  least  in  part.  How  happy 
are  you,  my  dear  mother,  to  have  gotten  almost  through 
this  wearisome,  terrible  conflict.  Your  trials  and  suffer- 
ings are  almost  ended,  and  the  blessed  fruit  of  them  is  all 
to  come." 

These  extracts  furnish  specimens  of  his  zeal,  and  his 
various  methods  of  exerting  himself  for  the  promotion  ol 


EDWARD   PAY  SON. 


267 


religion,  at  different  periods  of  his  ministry  ;  but  it  would 
be  doing  him  great  injustice  to  leave  any  room  for  the  in- 
ference, that  the  intervals  between  these  dates,  were  sea- 
sons of  relaxation  or  indolence.  Such  seasons  he  never 
allowed  himself  His  labors  were  never  suspended,  un- 
less physical  debility  rendered  the  prosecution  of  them 
impossible.  His  religion  was  not  intermittent.  With 
him  time  was  a  precious  talent,  and  he  "paid  no  moment, 
but  in  purchase  of  its  worth."  He  would  not  w  illingly 
suffer  an  hour  to  pass  away,  without  some  effort  for  the  re- 
covery of  lost  sinners.  Whatever  were  the  declension  of 
those  around  him,  his  ardor  in  religion,  and  his  exertions 
for  its  advancement,  suffered  no  visible  abatement.  On 
the  contrary,  the  darkest  times  were  those,  in  which  he 
was  eminently  "jealous  for  the  Lord  of  Hosts,"  a  living 
witness  to  the  power  of  divine  grace,  and  a  living  reproof 
to  such  as  'had  gone  away  backward.'  When  he  saw  his 
fellow  men  indifferent  to  their  own  salvation  ;  when  he 
saw  "reigning  crime  and  hastening  death,"  it  was  "a 
spectacle  which  made"  his  heart  ache,  and  "his  eyes 
weep."  He  expostulated,  he  warned,  he  entreated,  he 
mourned  in  secret  places,  he  "ran  between  the  dead  and 
the  living,"  and  earnestly  interceded  with  God  to  interpose 
for  their  salvation.  He  could  "not  hold  his  peace,  nor 
take  rest,"  when  Zion  was  in  affliction,  and  'none  com- 
ing to  the  solemn  feast.'  As  it  respects  the  progress  of 
the  Redeemer's  cause,  he  seemed  always  to  glow  with  the 
spirit  and  feelings,  which  most  are  accustomed  to  regard 
as  a  privilege  peculiar  to  a  time  of  general  revival.  These 
feelings  must  have  been  subject  to  some  inequalities,  ev- 
en in  him  ;  but  they  seem  never  to  have  sunk  to  a  point, 
which  was  not  above  the  standard  of  attainment  with  or- 
dinary men  in  their  most  favored  seasons.  He  was,  in- 
deed, often  discouraged  with  respect  to  himself,  and  his 
own  personal  pi ospects  ,  but  if  he  ever  suffered  any  de- 
clension in  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God  in  the  salvation  of 
others,  it  was  of  such  temporary  duration,  as  to  produce 
no  perceptible  effect  on  his  use  of  means.  If  there  was  a 
time,  during  his  whole  ministry,  when  lie  was  not  ardent- 
ly desirous,  and,  to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  actively  labo- 
rious, for  the  conversion  of  sinners,  the  fact  was  not  ob- 


268 


MEMOJil  OF 


sexvable  by  his  people,  nor  even  by  his  most  intimate 
friends. 

He  loved  bis  work  ;  when  not  exhausted  by  fatigue,  or 
depressed  by  illness,  he  was  specially  fond  of  the  exercise 
of  preaching ;  so  much  so,  that  he  considered  it  no  favor 
for  a  way-faring  brother,  to  offer  to  supply  his  place,  gra- 
tuitously, on  a  Sabbath.  He  felt,  to  use  his  own  compar- 
ison, about  as  much  obligation  tor  such  an  offer,  as  he 
should  to  a  man  for  proposing  to  "eat  up  a  good  dinner  pre- 
pared for  himself,  when  he  was  half-starved !  In  preparing 
for  the  pulpit,  it  was  his  invariable  object  to  introduce  so 
much  of  the  grand  truths  of  the  gospel  into  every  dis- 
course, that  a  person,  who  had  never  heard  a  sermon  be- 
fore, and  should  never  hear  another,  might  learn  from  it 
what  was  essential  to  salvation.  While  his  sermons,  gen- 
erally, bore  this  uniform  feature,  they  were  endlessly  vari- 
ous in  other  respects.  He  seldom  selected  a  text,  without 
reference  to  the  known  circumstances  of  his  church  and 
congregation ;  and  so  wakeful  and  diligent  was  he  "to 
know  the  state  of  his  flock,"  that  he  scarcely  ever  failed  in 
the  adaptation  of  his  subject.  So  dexterously  did  he  wield 
the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  and  so  fully  and  accurately  dis- 
cern and  expose  "the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart," 
that,  to  this  day,  there  are  those  who  believe  he  obtained 
his  information  concerning  them  from  eaves-droppers  and 
"old  women." 

But  among  all  his  services  in  the  house  of  God,  none, 
perhaps,  were  more  signally  blessed  than  his  exercises  at 
the  comnmnion-table.  Uniformly,  this  ordinance  was,  in 
a  high  degree,  refreshing  to  his  own  spirit.  Hither  he 
delighted  to  come  and  quench  his  thirst  for  the  water  of 
life.  Here  he  met  the  Saviour,  "who  bore  our  sins  in  his 
own  body  on  the  tree  ,"  and  who,  "having  himself  suffer- 
ed, being  tempted,  knoweth  how  to  succor  them  that  are 
tempted."  For  him  the  crucified  Son  of  God  had  incom- 
parable attractions.  He  saw  in  Christ,  that  kind,  sympa- 
thizing, all  powerful  High  Priest,  who  was  suited  to  the 
wants,  of  which  he  felt  so  deeply  conscious.  And  he  al- 
ways came  to  this  sacred  feast,  with  a  soul  full  of  tender- 
ness, and  dwelt  on  the  love  of  a  suffering  Saviour  w  ith  a 
pathos,  that  was  irresistible  Here,  in  an  unrivalled  de- 
gree, his  'heart  indited  good  matter,  and  his  tongue  was 


EnWAIU)  PAYSON. 


269 


the  pen  of  a  ready  writer.'  "  Jesus  Christ  was,  indeed, 
set  forth  crucified  before  the  eyes"  of  the  admiring  com- 
municants. His  person,  attributes,  and  offices,  as  the 
Redeemer  of  our  lost  race  ;  his  marvellous  compassion  in 
dying  to  atone  for  our  sins ;  his  intercession  at  the  right 
hand  of  the  Father,  the  glories  and  terrors  of  his  second 
coming,  were  so  distinctly  and  affectingly  exhibited,  as 
to  excite  the  corresponding  emotions  in  pJl  hearts,  which 
were  not  harder  than  the  nether  mill-stone.  Those  who 
could  sympathise  with  the  administrator,  while  contem- 
plating Christ  as  Mediator,  'by  whom  we  have  access  to 
God,  and  redemption  through  his  blood,  even  the  forgive- 
neas  of  our  sins,  according  to  the  riches  of  his  grace,' — 
felt  that,  in  sinning  against  Christ,  they  had  wounded 
their  best,  tenderest.  Almighty  Friend.  And,  O,  how 
hateful  was  sin  made  to  appear !  how  loathsome  !  how 
Jieartily  was  it  renounced  !  how  fervently  its  future  com- 
mission deprecated  !  And  then  the  renewed  and  unreserv- 
ed dedication  of  soul  and  body  to  God,  as  a  living,  holy, 
acceptable,  and  reasonable  sacrifice !  "How  sweet  and 
awful  was  the  place,"  while  sealing  their  vows,  and  Christ 
his  pardons,  with  the  consecrated  symbols  of  his  body 
and  blood  !  How  precious  was  the  communion  of  saints 
with  Jesus,  and  with  one  another. — To  hundreds  have 
these  sacred  scenes  been  earnests  of  the  heavenly  inheri- 
tance. And  the  interest  which  he  gave  to  the  occasion, 
by  his  spirituality,  his  knowledge  of  the  heart,  of  the  Sa- 
viour, of  the  mysteries  of  redemption,  by  his  appropriate 
and  impressive  appeals,  usually  detained  a  great  number, 
who  were  not  communicants.  The  spectators  were  as 
numerous  ns  the  guests ;  and  what  they  heard  and  wit- 
nessed, was,  not  unfrequently,  the  means  of  conviction. 

This,  too,  was  his  chosen  occasion  to  impress  on  bap- 
tised youth  a  sense  of  their  obligations  to  devote  them- 
selves to  their  God  and  Redeemer  ;  and  a  more  suitable 
one  could  not  have  been  selected.  There  are  many 
who  will  remember  it  with  everlasting  gratitude.  When 
it  is  recollected  liow  much  there  is  in  this  scene  to  render 
instructions  impressive  on  the  minds  of  this  class  of  youth, 
might  not  ministers  generally  take  a  valuable  hint  from 
his  practice  ? 

The  church  fasts  and  conferences,  when  conducted  by 
23* 


270 


MEMOIR  or 


the  pastor,  were,  next  to  those  of  the  communion,  the  most 
humble,  melting,  edifymg,  and  instructive  seasons,  which 
his  highly  tavored  Hock  enjoyed.  Here  he  employed  his 
faith,  his  imagination,  and  the  various  resources  of  his 
richly  furnished  mind,  to  show  them  their  actual  condition 
and  urge  them  forward  in  tlieir  Christian  course.  So  dis- 
tinctly and  clearly  could  he  illustrate  the  different  degrees 
of  ("hristian  attainment,  and  mark  the  different  shades 
and  varieties  of  religious  experience,  in  all  its  gradations, 
from  the  babe,  to  the  perfect  man,  in  Christ  Jesus,  tliat,  it 
would  seem,  every  Christian  present  must  have  known  his 
precise  rank.  A  specimen  of  his  manner,  as  near  as  can 
be  recollected,  may  be  thus  stated  : 

"  Suppose  professors  of  religion  to  be  ranged  in  differ- 
ent concentric  circles  around  Christ,  as  their  common 
centre.  Some  value  the  presence  of  their  Saviour  so  high- 
ly, that  they  cannot  bear  to  be  at  any  remove  from  him. 
Even  their  work,  they  will  bring  up,  and  do  it  in  the  light 
of  his  countenance  ;  and  while  engaged  in  it,  will  be  seen 
constantly  raising  their  eyes  to  him,  as  if  fearful  of  losing 
one  beam  of  his  light.  Others,  who,  to  be  sure,  would  not 
be  content  to  live  out  of  his  presence,  are  yet  less  wholly 
absorbed  by  it  than  these  ;  and  may  be  seen  a  little  far- 
ther off,  engaged  here  and  there  in  their  various  callings, 
their  eyes  generally  upon  their  work,  but  often  looking  up 
for  the  light  which  they  love.  A  third  class,  beyond  these 
but  yet  within  the  life-giving  rays,  includes  a  doubtful  mul- 
titude, many  of  whom  are  so  much  engaged  in  their  world- 
ly schemes,  that  they  may  be  seen  standing  sideways  to 
Christ,  looking  mostly  the  other  way,  and  only  now  and 
then  turning  their  faces  towards  the  light.  And  yet  far- 
ther out,  among  the  last  scattered  rays,  so  distant,  that 
it  is  often  doubtful  whether  they  come  at  all  within  their 
influence,  is  a  mixed  assemblage  of  busy  ones,  some  with 
their  backs  wholly  turned  upon  the  sun,  and  most  of  them 
so  careful  and  troubled  about  their  many  things,  as  to  spare 
but  little  time  for  their  Saviour. 

"  The  reason  why  the  men  of  the  world  think  so  little 
of  Christ,  is,  they  do  not  look  at  him.  Their  backs  being 
turned  to  the  sun,  they  can  see  only  their  own  shadows  ; 
and  are,  theiefore,  wholly  taken  up  with  themselves. 


KDWARD  I'AYSON. 


271 


While  the  true  disciple,  looking  only  upw  ard,  sees  nothing 
but  his  Saviour,  and  learns  to  forget  himself." 

"  The  growth  of  grace  in  the  heart  may  be  compared  to 
the  process  of  polishing  metals.  First,  you  have  a  dark, 
opaque  substance,  neither  possessing  nor  reflecting  light. 
Presently,  as  the  polisher  plies  his  work,  you  will  see  here 
and  there  a  spark  darting  out  ;  then  a  strong  light,  till,  by 
and  by,  it  sends  back  a  perfect  image  of  the  sun  which 
shines  upon  it.  So  the  work  of  grace,  if  begun  in  our 
hearts,  must  be  gradually,  and  continually  going  on  ;  and 
it  will  not  be  completed,  till  the  image  of  God  can  be  seen 
perfectly  reflected  in  us." 

At  a  church  fast,  in  the  time  of  a  revival,  he  mentioned 
as  dangers  to  bo  guarded  against,  and  as  causes  of  the  sus- 
pension of  divine  influences, 

1.  "Christians,  in  times  of  refreshing  from  the  presence 
of  the  Lord,  are  apt  to  be  so  much  taken  up  in  conversing 
and  laboring  with  sinners,  that,  from  concern  for  the  souls 
of  others,  they  neglect  their  own  spiritual  interests.  This 
may  do  very  well  for  a  time,  but  in  the  end  will  be  pro- 
ductive of  much  evil.  I  do  not  mean  to  dissuade  you 
from  laboring  for  the  good  of  others,  but  to  warn  you  to 
take  care  of  your  own  souls. 

2.  "  Christians  are  in  danger,  when  a  revival  has  con- 
tinued for  some  time,  of  praying  less  for  its  continuance, 
and  of  Ijeiiig  less  thankful  for  it.  They  seem  to  take  it  for 
granted,  tliat  it  will  go  on,  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  their 
prayers  grow  less  frequent  and  fervent,  and  their  gratitude 
less  lively,  until,  at  length,  a  case  of  conversion,  which 
would,  at  first,  have  electrified  the  whole  church,  produces 
scarcely  any  sensation  at  all.  Now  when  this  is  the  case, 
a  revival  will  certainly  cease  ;  for  God  never  continues  to 
bestow  spiritual  favors,  where  they  are  not  felt  to  be  such. 

3.  "  Another  reason  why  revivals  do  not  continue  long- 
er, is,  that  there  is  so  much  animal  excitement  mixed  with 
them.  It  is  a  law  of  our  nature,  that  the  duration  of  mere- 
ly animal  feelings  should  be  in  inverse  proportion  to  their 
strength.  These  are  no  part  of  spirituality  and  holines.s  ; 
for  the  more  holy  we  are,  the  less  we  shall  have  of  them. 


272 


MEMOIR  OF 


Our  Saviour  had  none  of  these  feelings.  Strive  to  repress 
aaimal  feeling,  and  to  be  more  purely  spiritual." 

"  We  read  that  Nadab  and  Abihu,  on  the  day  of  their 
consecration  to  the  priesthood,  instead  of  taking  holy  fire, 
with  which  to  burn  incense,  took  strange,  that  is  common 
fire,  and  were  punished,  by  immediate  death,  for  their  pre- 
sumption. To  us  this  may  appear  a  slight  offence.  We 
may  think  one  fire  equally  good  with  another.  But  our 
God  is  a  jealous  God,  and  we  must  make  our  offerings  in 
the  manner  he  has  commanded,  and  with  a  right  spirit,  or 
they  will  be  an  offence  in  his  sight,  and  he  will  not  accept 
them." 

Mr.  Payson  was  never  more  happy,  than  when  guiding 
inquirers  to  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sins 
of  the  world."  Some  of  the  "similitudes,"  by  which  he 
endeavored  to  illustrate  the  nature  of  experimental  religion 
and  assist  inquirers  in  judging  of  the  character  of  their  own 
exercises,  have  been  preserved  in  the  memory  of  several  of 
his  later  converts,  and  will  not  be  unwelcome  to  any  class 
of  readers.  They  do  not  profess  to  be  reported  in  precise- 
ly his  language,  and  on  this  account  due  allowance  must 
be  made.  Much  of  their  original  force  and  appositeness 
is,  doubtless,  lost. 

"  Suppose  a  number  of  persons  standing  by  a  river'e 
side.  They  are  invited  to  drink  of  its  waters,  but  they 
are  not  thirsty,  and,  therefore,  do  not  desire  them.  At 
length  their  thirst  is  excited,  and  they  look  round  for  a 
vessel,  with  which  to  take  up  some  water.  But  their  ves- 
sels are  all  filled  with  some  worthless  thing,  which  they  are 
as  yet,  unwilling  to  part  with.  But  as  their  thirst  in- 
creases, they  become  willing  to  relinquish  what  they  had 
thought  of  so  much  value,  and,  finally,  emptying  their  ves- 
sels of  this  rubbish,  and  receiving  the  water,  they  quench 
their  thirst.  Thus  it  is  with  sinners  ;  Jesus  Christ  invites 
them  to  come  to  him,  the  Fountain  of  living  waters.  But 
they  decline  his  invitations — their  hearts  being  filled  with 
the  treasures  of  earth.  They  do  not  thirst  for  Christ,  till 
God  takes  away  the  love  of  this  world  and  its  vanities  ; 
and  the  Holy  Spirit  fills  them  with  desirfe  to  come  to  him 


KiJWAUi)  PAVSON. 


273 


Then  they  huHger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,  and  are 
prepared  to  receive  Christ." 

"  Were  a  man  suddenly  precipitated  into  the  sea,  and 
after  making  inetfectual  struggles  to  save  himself,  to  give 
up  all  for  lost — should  he  at  tliis  crisis  perceive  a  boat  ap- 
proaching, and  a  liriendly  hand  extended  for  his  rescue  ; 
he  would,  at  first,  scarcely  credit  his  senses,  or  realize 
that  lie  was  sate  ;  his  joy  would  be  so  great,  and  his  grat- 
titude  to  his  preserver  so  ardent.  But  after  the  first  trans- 
ports had  subsided,  he  would  feel  more  real  pleasure  in 
contemplating  the  vessel,  in  admiring  the  wisdom  apparent 
in  its  construction,  and  its  admirable  adaptedness  for  sa- 
ving from  death  all  who  were  in  his  late  situation,  than  he 
would  when  he  viewed  it  merely  as  the  means  of  saving 
his  own  life.  So  the  sinner,  when  first  he  finds  himself 
rescued  from  destruction,  is  full  of  love  to  Christ,  for  his 
peculiar  and  unmerited  mercy  to  himself.  But  as  he  in- 
creases in  knowledge  and  Christian  attainments,  has  clear- 
er views  of  the  character  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  and 
grace,  which  appear  in  the  plan  of  redemption,  his  love 
has  less  and  less  of  selfishness." 

"  Suppose  two  persons  equally  desirous  to  gain  your  af- 
fections— one,  far  distant,  and  not  expecting  to  see  you  for 
a  long  time  ;  the  other,  always  present  with  \ou,  and  at 
liberty  to  use  all  means  to  win  your  love,  able  to  flatter 
and  gratify  you  in  a  thousand  ways.  Still  you  prefer  the 
absent  one,  and  tliat  you  may  keep  him  in  remembrance, 
you  often  retire  by  yourself  to  think  of  his  love  to  you,  and 
view  again  and  again  the  mementos  of  his  affection,  to  read 
his  letters,  and  pour  out  your  heart  in  return.  Such  is 
now  your  case ;  the  world  is  always  before  you,  to  flat- 
ter, promise,  and  please.  But  if  you  really  prefer  to  love 
God,  you  will  fix  your  thoughts  on  him,  often  retire  tor 
meditation  and  prayer,  and  recount  the  plea.saut  gifts  of 
his  providence,  and  especially  his  infinite  mercy  to  your 
soul  :  you  will  read  frequently  his  holy  Word,  which  is 
the  letter  he  has  sent  you,  as  really  as  if  it  were  directed 
to  you  by  name." 

"  Religion  is  the  golden  chain,  which  God  lets  down 


274 


MEMOIR  OP 


from  heaven,  with  a  link  for  every  person  in  this  room,  in- 
viting each  to  take  hold,  that  you  may  be  drawn  by  it  to 
himself.  You  can  readily  perceive  how  disagreeable  it 
would  be,  to  be  linked  to  o  le,  whom  you  disliked,  and 
drawn  by  iiim,  whithersoever  he  wills  ;  but  you  would 
gladly  be  drawn  and  guided  in  every  thing  by  the  person 
whom  you  ardently  loved.  There  is  this  difference  be- 
tween the  Christian  and  the  sinner.  However  reluctant 
and  full  of  hatred,  .still  the  sinner  is  controlled  by  God  ; 
the  Christian  is  equally  in  his  hands,  but  is  drawn  by  the 
cords  of  love.  ' 

"  Christ  said  to  Mary,  Fear  not,  I  know  that  you  seek 
Jesus.  If  ye  really  seek  Jesus,  he  says  the  same  to  you. 
Fear  not — death,  sorrow,  sickness,  any  thing.  If  they 
are  thus  blessed,  who  seek  Jesus,  what  must  those  be,  who 
have  found  him  ?" 

To  an  inquirer,  who  complained,  that  the  difficulties 
in  his  way  increased,  rather  than  diminished,  he  said — 
"  You  might  bind  a  bird  with  a  soft  silken  cord,  and  while 
he  remains  still,  he  will  not  be  sensible  ot  his  confinement ; 
but  as  soon  as  he  attempts  to  fly,  he  will  feel  the  cord  that 
confines  him  ;  and  the  greater  his  desire  and  his  efforts 
to  escape,  the  more  sensible  will  he  be  of  his  bondage. 
So  the  sinner  may  long  be  a  slave  to  his  sins,  and  never 
be  aware  of  it,  till  he  rises  to  go  to  Christ." 

7*  "  Every  person  has  some  object,  which  he  loves  su- 
premely ;  and  in  every  unrenewed  man,  that  object  is  self 
Suppose,  for  illustration,  that  you  have  an  image,  which 
is,  in  reality,  extremely  ugly,  but  which  you  think  beau- 
tiful, and  you  spend  all  your  time  in  polishing  and  adorning 
it.  At  length,  however,  you  begin  to  see  something  of  its 
deformity,  but  endeavor  to  conceal  it  from  others,  and,  if 
possible,  from  yourself,  by  painting  and  dressing  it.  Not- 
withstanding all  your  efforts,  it  grows  more  and  more  ugly 
till,  at  last,  in  despair  of  amending  it  yourself,  you  pray 
that  God  would  make  it  more  lovely.  It  is  evident,  in  this 
case,  that  your  prayers  would  not  proceed  from  love  to 
God,  but  from  love  to  your  idol  ;  and,  therefore,  there 
would  be  no  goodness  in  them.    Suppose  that,  during  all 


EDWARD  PAVSON. 


275 


this  tirae,  a  person  was  entreating  you  to  look  at  a  beauti- 
ful diamond  statue,  which  you  refused  to  do  ;  until,  weari- 
ed with  useless  efforts  to  make  your  image  appear  more 
beautiful,  you  turn  and  look  at  the  statue.  Immediately 
you  see  your  idol  in  all  its  native  deformity  ;  you  cast  it 
aside  and  begin  to  admire  and  extol  the  statue.  This  idol 
represents  self,  and  every  unrenewed  person  admires  and 
loves  It  supremely.  When  his  conscience  is  awaken- 
ed to  see  something  of  his  sinfulness,  he  first  endeavors  to 
make  himself  better,  and  it  is  long  before  he  finds  tliat  he 
cannot  change  his  own  heart.  When  he  finds,  that,  not- 
withstanding all  his  endeavors,  his  heart  seems  to  grow 
worse  and  worse,  he  prays  to  God  for  help.  It  is  not 
from  love  God,  or  because  God  has  commanded  it,  that  he 
prays  ;  but  because  he  is  unwilling  to  see  himself  so  sin- 
ful ;  so  that  his  prayers  arise  merely  from  pride  and  selfish- 
ness. But  if  he  will  only  turn  and  look  to  Christ,  he  sees 
his  sins  in  a  new  light,  and  no  longer  loves  himself  su- 
premely ;  all  his  aflfections  are  transferred  to  Christ.  He 
then  prays  to  be  made  better,  not  to  gratify  his  pride,  but 
because  he  sees  something  of  the  beauty  of  holiness  and 
and  longs  to  resemble  his  divine  Muster." 

"Suppose  one  man  owes  another  a  thou.sand  pounds, 
but  he  is  unable  to  pay  the  debt  and  denies  that  he  owes 
it.  His  creditor,  being  a  very  compassionate  man,  says 
to  him,  "I  do  not  wish  for  your  money,  and  as  soon  as 
you  will  own  the  debt  to  be  a  just  one,  I  will  release  you 
from  your  obligation  ;  but  I  cannot  do  it  before,  lor  that 
would  be  in  fact  acknowledging  that  I  am  in  the  wrong." 
The  poor  man  refuses  to  confess  that  he  owes  the  money, 
and  is,  in  consequence,  sent  to  prison.  After  remaining 
there  for  a  time,  he  sends  his  creditor  word,  that  he  will 
allow  he  owes  him  a  hundred  pounds.  But  that  will  not 
do.  After  another  interval,  he  says  he  will  allow  that  he 
owes  two  hundred  pounds ;  and  thus  he  keeps  gradually 
giving  up  a  little  more,  until  he  gets  to  nine  hundred  ; 
there  he  stops  a  long  while.  At  length,  finding  there  is 
no  other  way  of  escape,  he  acknowledges  the  whole  debt, 
and  is  released.  Still  it  would  be  free,  unmerited  kind- 
ness in  the  creditor,  and  the  poor  man  would  have  no 
right  to  say,  "I  partly  deserved  it.  because  I  owned  the 


276 


MEMOIR  OF 


debt ;"  for  he  ought  to  have  done  that,  whether  he  was 
liberated  or  not.  Just  in  this  manner  we  have  treated 
God.  When  he  comes  and  charges  us  with  having  bro- 
ken his  law,  we  deny  it ;  we  will  allow,  perhaps,  that  we 
deserve  a  slight  punishment,  but  not  all  which  God  has 
threatened.  JJut  if  we  are  ever  to  be  saved,  God  comes 
and,  as  it  were,  shuts  us  up  in  prison  ;  that  is,  he  awakens 
our  consciences,  and  sends  his  Spirit  to  convince  us  of 
sin.  Thus  we,  every  day,  see  more  and  more  of  the  des- 
perate wickedness  of  our  hearts,' until  we  are  ready  to  al- 
low tliat  we  have  deserved  eternal  condemnation.  As 
soon  as  we  acknowledge  this,  God  is  ready  to  pardon  us  ; 
but  it  is  evident  that  we  do  not  deserve  pardon,  that  he  is 
not  under  the  least  obligation  to  bestow  it,  and  that  all 
who  are  saved,  are  saved  through  free  unmerited  grace." 

"One  excuse  which  awakened  sinners  are  accustomed 
to  allege  in  their  own  defence,  is,  that  they  wish  to  love 
God,  and  to  have  new  hearts,  but  cannot.  They  do  in- 
deed wish  to  be  saved,  but  they  are  not  willing  to  be  sa- 
ved in  God's  way  ;  that  is,  they  are  not  willing  to  accept 
salvation  as  a  free  gift.  They  would  do  any  thing  to  huy 
it,  but  will  not  take  it  without  money  and  without  price. 
Suppose  that  you  were  very  sick,  and  were  told  by  the  phy- 
sician, that  there  was  but  one  medicine  in  the  world,  which 
could  save  your  life,  and  that  this  was  exceedingly  pre- 
cious. You  were  also  told,  that  there  was  but  one  person 
in  the  world  who  had  any  ofthis  in  his  possession ;  and  that, 
although  he  was  willing  to  give  it  to  those  who  asked,  he 
would,  on  no  account,  sell  any.  Suppose  this  person  to 
be  one,  whom  you  had  treated  with  great  neglect  and  con- 
tempt, injured  in  every  pos.sible  way.  How  exceedingly 
unw  illing  would  you  be  to  send  to  him  for  the  medicine,  as 
a  gift :  You  would  rather  purchase  it  at  the  expense  of 
your  whole  fortune.  You  would  defer  sending  as  long  as 
possible,  and  when  you  found  that  you  were  daily  growing 
worse,  and  nothing  else  could  save  you,  you  would  be 
obliged,  however  reluctantly,  to  send  and  ask  for  some. 
Just  so  unwilling  are  sinners  to  apply  to  God  for  salvation, 
as  a  free  gift ;  and  they  will  not  do  it,  until  they  find  them- 
selves perishing,  and  that  there  is  no  other  hope  for  them." 


EDWAUl)  PAYSON. 


277 


•'The  young  convert,  in  judging  of  the  reality  of  his  con- 
version, generally  lays  much  stress  upon  having  a  great 
deal  of  joy  ;  and  regards  that  as  a  very  decisive  proof  that 
he  is  a  disciple  of  Christ.  But  this  is  one  of  the  most 
fallacious  proofs,  and  no  dependance  ought  to  be  placed 
on  it.  It  is  not  desirable,  at  fir,st,  to  have  full  assurance 
of  our  salvation,  for  our  love  is  then  weak  ;  and  some  de- 
gree of  fear  is  likewise  necessary  to  keep  us  near  to  Christ." 

V  "Suppose  a  child  accidentally  falls  into  a  pit,  and  when 
some  person  comes  to  help  him  out,  instead  of  thankfully 
accepting  the  offer,  he  says,  "No  ,  I  will  not  have  you  to 
help  me  out,  I  wish  some  one  else  to  assist  me."  He  is 
told  by  his  father,  that  he  shall  not  be  assisted  by  any  oth- 
er person.  Yet  he  still  prefers  remaining  in  the  pit  to 
accepting  that  person's  offer  ;  does  it  not  indicate  strong 
aversion  to  him  ?  Yet  it  is  precisely  thus  that  the  sinner 
treats  Christ.  He  is  exposed  to  danger,  from  which  none 
but  Christ  can  deliver  him.  Yet,  rather  than  accept  his 
assistance,  he  tries  every  other  method,  again  and  again  ; 
and  when  he  finds  all  his  efforts  unsuccessful,  he  practi- 
cally says.  '  I  had  rather  perish,  than  be  saved  by  Christ.' 
How  justly  might  the  Saviour  take  him  at  his  word,  and 
leave  him  to  perish  1" 

"  The  manner  in  which  people  obtain  a  false  hope,  is 
generally  this  :  they  first  believe  that  God  is  reconciled  to 
them,  and  then  are  reconciled  to  him  on  that  account  ; 
but  if  they  thought  that  God  was  .still  displeased  with,  and 
determined  to  punish  them,  they  would  find  their  enmity 
to  him  revive.  On  the  contrary,  the  Christian  is  recon- 
ciled because  he  sees  the  holiness  of  the  law  which  he  has 
broken,  and  God's  justice  in  punishing  him  ;  he  takes 
part  with  God  against  himself,  cordially  submits  to  him, 
and  this  when  he  expects  condemnation.  He  is  reconci- 
led, because  he  is  pleased  with  the  character  of  God  ;  the 
false  convert,  because  he  hopes  God  is  pleased  with  him." 

"It  is  morally  impossible  for  God  to  pardon  sinners 
without  repentance.  The  moment  he  should  do  it,  he 
would  cease  to  be  a  perfectly  holy  being  ;  of  course,  all 
the  songs  of  heaven  would  stop,  and  all  the  happiness  of 


27S 


MEMOIR  OF 


the  universe  be  dried  up.  In  his  conduct  he  is  governed 
by  a  regard  the  good  of  the  whole.  If  a  sovereign,  out  of 
false  pity  to  criminals,  should  pardon  them  indiscriminate- 
ly ;  he  would  thus  destroy  the  happiness  of  all  his  faithful 
subjects,  and  introduce  misery  and  confusion  into  his  king- 
dom. But  infinitely  worse  consequences  would  ensue,  if 
God  should  neglect  to  punish  those  who  transgress  his  law. 
His  vast  dominions  would  become  one  universal  scene  of 
anarchy  and  confusion  ;  happiness  would  be  banished  for- 
ever ;  and  misery,  in  its  most  aggravated  forms,  would 
prevail  throughout  the  universe.  Yet  all  this  the  sinner 
would  think  ought  to  be  endured,  rather  than  that  he 
should  be  obliged  to  repent  of  his  sins." 


"  Young  converts  generally  suppose  that  it  is  their 
strong  faith,  which  enables  them  to  go  to  God,  and  ask  to 
be  forgiven,  without  much  fear  or  hesitation  ;  but  faith 
has  less  to  do  with  it,  than  they  imagine.  It  is  because 
they  see  little  of  their  own  sinfulness  and  God's  hatred  of 
sin.  If  they  had  clear  views  of  these  truths,  they  would 
fmd  their  weak  faith  very  insufficient  to  induce  them  to 
go  to  Christ.  Suppose  a  man,  who  had  never  seen  fire, 
and  who  knew  its  effects  only  by  report,  should  be  told 
that,  at  a  certain  distant  period,  he  would  be  obliged  to 
pass  through  a  fire.  He  is  told,  also,  that  there  is  but  one 
kind  of  garment  that  can  protect  him  from  its  influence. 
A  person  gives  him  this  robe,  and  although  it  appears  to 
him  very  thin  and  flimsy,  yet  he  feels  very  well  satisfied 
with  it  before  he  has  seen  the  fire.  But  when  the  destin- 
ed time  arrives,  and  he  sees  the  fire  blazing  out,  and  con- 
suming every  thing  within  its  reach,  his  confidence  fails. 
At  first,  a  small  degree  of  faith  enables  the  Christian  to  go 
to  God  ;  but  as  he  advances  in  the  knowledge  of  his  own 
heart,  and  God's  hatred  of  sin,  his  faith  must  also  be  in- 
creased to  enable  him  to  approach  his  Heavenly  Father 
with  confidence." 

"  The  young  convert  may  be  compared  to  a  child,  whom 
his  father  is  leading  over  a  rugged  and  uneven  path.  Af- 
ter proceeding  for  some  time,  without  much  difficulty,  he 
forgets  that  it  has  been  owing  to  his  father's  assistance — 
begins  to  think  that  he  may  now  venture  to  walk  by  him- 


KOWAHl)  I'AVSUN. 


279 


self,  and,  consequently,  falls.  Humbled  and  dejected,  he 
then  feels  his  own  weakness,  and  clings  to  his  father  for 
support.  Soon,  however,  elated  with  his  progress,  he 
again  forgets  the  kind  hand  which  sustains  him,  fancies 
he  needs  no  more  assistance,  and  again  falls.  This  pro- 
cess is  repeated  a  thousand  times,  in  the  course  of  the 
Christian's  experience,  till  he  learns,  at  length,  that  his 
own  strength  is  perfect  weaknes'»,  and  that  he  must  depend 
solely  on  his  Heavenly  Father." 

"  To  assist  you  in  estimating  the  criminality  of  sin,  sup- 
pose that  you  had  committed  the  first  sin — that,  before 
you  were  born,  such  a  thing  had  never  been  heard  or 
thought  of ;  but  that  all  beings  had  united  in  loving  and 
serving  God,  till,  all  at  once,  you  started  up,  and  began  to 
disobey  his  commands.  What  a  commotion  would  be 
excited  !  Instantly  the  news  would  spread  through  heav- 
en and  earth,  with  inconceivable  rapidity,  and  all  ranks 
and  orders  of  beings  would  join  in  exclaiming,  "  It  cannot 
be  !  Where  is  the  wretch,  who  would  dare  to  disobey 
Jehovah  ?"  Suppose,  then,  that  you  were  obliged  to  come 
forward,  and  stand  in  the  view  of  the  assembled  universe, 
of  myriads  of  sinless  beings,  who  all  regarded  you  with 
feelings  of  astonishment,  horror,  detestation,  too  strong  for 
utterance.  How  inexpressibly  dreadful  would  sin  appear 
in  this  point  of  view  !  And  yet  it  is,  in  reality,  just  as 
dreadful  and  as  criminal,  to  sin  now,  as  if  no  sin  had  ever 
been  committed  by  another." 

"  The  difference  between  true  and  false  religion  may 
be  thus  illustrated.  Suppose  a  king  visits  two  families  of 
his  subjects  ;  the  members  of  one  think  it  great  conde- 
scension in  him  to  visit  them  ;  they  show  him  every  possi- 
ble mark  of-affection  and  respect,  and  they  are  filled  with 
regret  and  unhappine.ss  at  his  departure.  The  other  fam- 
ily have  no  real  love  for  him ;  and,  though  self  interest 
prompts  them  to  show  him  every  external  mark  of  respect, 
yet  it  is  constrained,  and  they  are  glad  when  he  departs. 
Now  if  this  king  could  read  the  heart,  and  saw  that  their 
services  were  insincere,  he  could  not,  of  course,  be  pleas- 
ed ;  and  the  more  assiduous  they  were  in  their  attentions, 
if  prompted  wholly  by  self-interest,  the  more  would  he -be 


280 


M£MOLR  Of 


disgusted.  In  the  same  manner,  when  God,  by  his  Spirit, 
visits  the  true  Christian,  it  fills  him  with  joy  and  gladness  ; 
his  presence  is  life  ;  and  when  he  hides  his  face,  nothing 
can  afford  pleasure  or  satisfaction.  But  when  thoughts  of 
God  enter  the  mind  of  the  sinner,  he  feels  uneasy,  and 
tries  to  get  rid  of  them.  He  may,  from  selfish  motives, 
alfect  to  seek  God  ;  but  his  heart  is  not  in  it,  and  he  longs 
after  the  pleasures  of  the  world.  This  is  the  way,  in  which 
all  awakened,  yet  impenitent  sinners,  seek  God  ;  and  yet 
they  are  displeased,  because  he  will  not  accept  such  heart- 
less services." 

"  We  are  apt  to  feel  as  if,  by  our  prayers,  we  laid  God 
under  obligation  to  save  us ;  as  if  our  feeble,  imperfect 
services  were  "  profitable  to  him."  Suppose  a  poor  beggar 
should  say  of  some  rich  nobleman,  "He  is  under  great 
obligations  tome."  And  when  asked,  "  Why  1" — should 
answer,  "  I  have  been,  every  day,  for  a  great  many  years, 
and  told  him  a  long  story  of  my  wants,  and  asked  him  to 
help  me."  You  can  see  how  absurd  this  appears  ;  and 
yet  it  is  precisely  similar  to  our  conduct,  except,  indeed, 
that  ours  is  much  more  absurd,  because  the  disparity  be- 
tween God  and  us,  is  infinitely  greater  than  can  exist  be- 
tween any  two  mortals." 

"  When  sinners  have  been  awakened  to  see  their  guilt 
and  danger,  and  are  invited  to  come  to  Christ  and  be  sa- 
ved, they  frequently  make  such  excuses  as  these — "  I  can- 
not believe  that  the  invitations  of  the  gospel  were  intend- 
ed for  such  sinners  as  I  am  ;  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  feel  right, 
and  that  Christ  will  not  receive  me."  Suppose  a  table  set 
in  the  street,  and  loaded  with  all  kinds  of  food  ;  and  that 
a  herald  is  sent  to  make  proclamation,  that  all,  who  wish, 
may  come  and  partake  freely.  A  poor  man  comes,  and 
stands  lookmg  very  wishfully  at  the  table  ;  and  when  he 
is  asked  why  he  does  not  eat,  replies — "  O,  I  am  afraid 
the  invitation  is  not  meant  for  me  ;  I  am  not  fit."  Again 
he  is  assured  that  the  invitation  is  intended  for  all  those 
who  are  hungry,  and  that  no  other  qualification  is  neces- 
sary. Still  he  objects — "  But  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  hun- 
gry enough."    In  the  same  way  do  sinners  deprive  them- 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


2S1 


selves,  by  their  own  folly,  of  those  blessings  which  are 
freely  offered  them  by  their  Creator." 

"  Suppose  the  rebellious  subjects  of  a  very  wise  and  good 
king,  condemned  to  death.  The  king  has  a  son,  who 
from  compassion  to  these  poor  wietches,  offers  to  make 
satisfaction  to  his  father  for  their  crimes,  if  he  will  pardon 
them.  The  king  consents  on  one  condition.  He  places 
his  son  at  the  door  of  his  palace,  and  makes  proclamation, 
that  every  one,  who  comes  to  him  for  pardon,  and  is  led  in 
by  his  son,  shall  be  forgiven  for  his  sake.  One  of  the  cul- 
prits comes,  and  rejecting  the  proffered  hand  of  the  prince, 
rushes  to  the  throne  himself  Can  this  man  expect  mercy  ? 
Thus  God  has  provided  a  Mediator,  and  commanded  all 
to  approach  in  his  name  ;  and  none  can  expect  to  be  re- 
ceived, who  do  not  come  to  God  in  this  appointed  way." 

K  "  One  mark  of  a  true  convert  is,  that  he  continues  to 
repent  of  his  sins,  after  he  hopes  that  they  are  pardoned. 
All  tliat  the  hypocrite  desires,  is  salvation  from  punish- 
ment ;  and  when  he  thinks  this  end  secured,  he  feels  no 
concern  respecting  his  sins.  But  the  true  Christian  de- 
sires to  be  saved  from  sin  ;  and  his  hatred  of  sin,  and  re- 
pentance for  it  increase  in  proportion  as  his  assurance  of 
heaven  increases.  Another  mark  is,  that  all  disposition 
to  make  excuses,  is  taken  away.  The  repentant  sinner 
feels  willing  to  lie  at  God's  feet,  and  confess  his  sins,  with- 
out even  wishing  to  excuse  them." 

"  It  evinces  more  depravity  not  to  repent  of  a  sin,  than 
it  does  to  commit  it  at  first.  A  good  nian  may  be  hurried 
away  by  temptation  to  commit  a  sin,  but  he  will  invariably 
repent  of  it  afterwards.  To  deny,  as  Peter  did,  is  bad  ; 
but  not  to  weep  bitterly  as  he  did,  when  we  have  denied, 
is  worse." 

"  We  may  have  the  form  of  godliness  without  the  pow- 
er ,  but  it  is  impossible  to  have  the  power  without  the 
form." 

"  The  promises  in  the  Bible  to  prayer,  are  not  made 
to  one  act,  but  to  the  continued  habit,  of  prayer." 


24* 


^82 


MEMOIR  or 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  same  subject — Bible  class — pastoral  visits — social 
parties — special,  and  casual  interviews — charm  of  his 
conversation — singular  rencontre — whence  his  compe- 
tency— his  publications. 

IF  there  is  a  spectacle  on  earth,  peculiarly  animating 
to  the  thoughtful  Christian,  who  waits  and  prays  for  the 
salvation  of  God,  it  is  the  faithful,  affectionate  pastor,  with 
the  Bible  in  his  hand,  surrounded  by  the  "lambs  of  his 
flock,"  and  leading  them  into  "green  pastures,  and  be- 
side the  still  waters."  It  cannot  be  witnessed  without  a 
thrill  of  unusual  delight,  and  anticipations  of  the  mosi 
cheering  character.  There  may  be  more  of  immediate 
personal  enjoyment  in  the  communion  of  saints,  and  in 
that  foretaste  of  an  eternal  feast,  which  is  granted  to  the 
redeemed  of  the  Lord,  when,  gathered  around  the  sacra- 
mental board,  they  glory  in  the  cross,  and  celebrate  the 
love  of  Hmi,  who  died  on  it,  and  their  faith  anticipates 
the  hour  when  they  "shall  see  Him  as  he  is,"  and  come 
to  the  heavenly  Zion,  and  commence  their  everlasting 
song.  But  the  same  principle,  which  causes  "joy  in  hea- 
ven over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  more  than  over  nine- 
ty and  nine  just  persons,  who  need  no  repentance,"  is 
eminently  a  principle  of  benevolence,  which  is  gratified 
with  every  prospect  of  increase,  to  the  "great  multitude 
whom  no  man  can  number ;"  and  it  is  called  into  action, 
and  operates  with  no  ordinary  eifect,  in  view  of  a  collec- 
tion of  youth,  grouped  around  their  beloved  spiritual 
teacher,  engaged  in  investigating  the  truths  of  the  Bible, 
and  ascertaining  the  duties,  which  it  enjoins.  It  is  a 
sight  full  of  hope  and  promise.  It  is  not  presumption  to 
expect  from  it  the  choicest  spiritual  fruits,  which  a  minis- 
ter is  ever  permitted  to  reap.  It  is  among  this  class  of 
his  charge,  that  he  may,  eminently,  "sow  in  hope."  The 
promises  of  God  authorize  him  to  expect  extensive  and 
glorious  results.    It  was  upon  the  youth,  that  Mr.  Payson 


JSDWA.IU)  PAYSON. 


283 


expended  some  of  his  best  exertions,  and  these  labors 
brought  him  a  "harvest  of  golden  sheaves." 

His  heart  was  drawn  towards  the  rising  generation,  and 
meditated  various  expedients  for  advancing  their  welfare. 
He  does,  indeed,  record  and  lament,  among  his  deficien- 
cies, the  neglect  of  special  efforts  for  their  instruction  and 
salvation.  But  compared  with  the  ordinary  standard  of 
ministerial  practice,  he  abounded  in  works  of  this  de- 
scription. Though,  from  the  first,  he  did  not  fail  to  give 
them  appropriate  instruction,  yet  it  was  not  till  the  latter 
years  of  his  ministry,  that  the  interesting  group,  who  pe- 
riodically gathered  around  him,  took  the  designation  of 
Bible  class ;  and  at  that  time,  his  manner  underwent  a 
slight  modification.  The  subjoined  specimens  were  fur- 
nished by  young  persons,  to  whom  they  were  blessed. 

"A  way-faring  man  stops  at  a  tavern,  and,  to  beguile 
the  time  of  his  stay  there,  looks  round  for  some  book. 
He  sees,  perhaps,  a  newspaper,  an  almanac,  and  the  Bi- 
ble ;  but  chooses  to  pore  over  either  of  the  former,  in  pre- 
ference to  the  Word  of  God, — thinking  it  hardly  possible 
to  be  amused  or  interested  in  that.  Even  a  Christian  will 
sometimes  do  thus. — This  is,  as  if  a  man  should  be  intro- 
duced into  an  apartment,  in  one  division  of  which  were 
Jesus  Christ  and  his  Apostles,  and  in  the  other  the  most 
dissolute  and  frivolous  company  ;  and,  on  being  invited 
by  the  Saviour  to  sit  with  them  and  enjoy  their  company, 
should  refuse,  and  seat  himself  with  the  others.  Would 
not  this  be  a  most  gross  insult  to  the  Saviour  ?  and  do  you 
not  equally  undervalue  and  refuse  his  company,  when  you 
thus  neglect  and  des|)ise  his  holy  word — through  which 
he  converses  with  you,  and  invites  you  near  to  himself, — 
and  choose  some  foolish  production  instead  of  itf 

"God  holds  out  to  you,  as  it  were  a  thread,  no  stronger 
than  a  spider's  web,  and  says — "Take  hold  of  this  thread  ; 
1  will  increase  its  strength,  day  by  day,  until  it  becomes 
the  line  of  salvation  to  you. — So  it  is  with  the  little  inter- 
est you  feel  in  the  Bible  class.  If  you  cherish  this,  if  you 
reflect  upon  what  you  read  and  hear,  and  daily  pray  to  be 
made  wise  by  these  instructions,  God  will  increase  your 
interest  to  its  consummation,  till  you  become  perfect  ones 


284 


iMEMOin  OF 


in  Christ  Jesus.  But  if  you  lose  your  hold  on  this  thread, 
you  are  lost." 

The  following  paragraph  illustrates  his  manner  of  sta- 
ting the  argument,  and  its  application — the  subject  before 
the  class  being,  the  evidence  from  the  light  of  nature, 
that  there  is  a  God. 

"Suppose,  my  young  friends,  that,  in  travelling  through 
a  wilderness,  a  spacious  garden  should  burst  upon  your 
view,  in  the  midst  of  which  is  a  splendid  palace.  Upon 
entering  it,  you  perceive,  in  every  apartment,  proofs  of  the 
agency  of  some  living  person,  though  you  see  no  one. 
Complicated  machinery  is  moving,  and  various  operations 
are  carried  on  ;  but  still  the  agent,  who  produces  these 
effects,  is  invisible.  Would  you  be  the  less  convinced 
that  they  were  produced  by  some  intelligent  agent  ?  And 
if  you  should  be  told,  that  the  palace  came  there  by  chance, 
and  that  all  the  movements  you  witnessed  were  caused  by 
no  power  whatever,  you  would  regard  him,  who  should 
tell  you  thus,  either  as  a  fool,  or  a  liar.  Now  you  have 
the  same  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  in  his  works,  that 
you  would  have,  in  the  case  I  have  supposed,  of  the  ex- 
istence and  presence  of  some  invisible  agent ;  and  it  is 
just  as  unreasonable  to  doubt  of  his  existence,  as  it  would 
be  to  doubt  whether  the  palace  had  been  built  by  any 
person,  or  was  only  the  work  of  chance.  Suppose  you 
were  informed,  by  a  writing  on  the  wall,  that  the  palace 
was  inhabited,  or  haunted  by  spirits,  who  were  constantly 
watching  your  conduct,  and  who  had  power  to  punish 
you,  if  it  displeased  them ;  and  that  you  were  also  inform- 
ed, at  the  same  time,  of  the  course  of  conduct  which  it 
would  be  necessary  to  pursue,  in  order  to  obtain  their  ap- 
probation. How  careful  would  you  be  to  observe  the 
rules,  and  how  fearful  of  displeasing  these  powerful  spir- 
its. And  if  you  were  further  informed,  that  these  were 
the  spirits  of  your  deceased  parents,  and  that  they  were 
able  to  hear,  if  you  addressed  them, — how  delightful  it 
would  be  to  go  and  tell  them  of  your  wants  and  sorrows, 
and  feel  sure  that  they  listened  to  you  with  sympathy  and 
compassion ! — I  tell  you,  my  young  friends,  this  world  is 
haunted,  if  I  may  so  express  it, — haunted  by  the  Eternal 


KDVVARI)  I'AVSON. 


285 


3pirU.  He  has  given  you  rules,  by  which  to  regulate 
your  conduct,  and  is  able  to  punish  every  deviation  from 
them.  And  can  you  recollect  that  such  a  Being  is  con- 
stantly noticing  your  conduct,  and  still  persist  in  disobey- 
ing his  commands  ?  God  is  also  your  Heavenly  Father  ; 
and  why  can  you  not  go  to  him,  as  such,  with  the  same 
confidence,  vvliich  you  would  exercise  in  an  earthly 
parent  1" 

In  explanation  of  the  command  to  glorify  God — "It 
may  seem  strange  and  presumptuous,  to  speak  of  such 
poor,  sinful,  worthless  beings,  as  we  are,  as  glorifying,  or 
as  capable  of  glorifying  God.  But  tlie  perfect  Christian 
may  be  compared  to  a  perfect  mirror,  which,  though  dark 
and  opaque  of  itself,  being  placed  before  the  sun,  reflects 
his  whole  image,  and  may  be  said  to  increase  his  glory, 
by  increasing  and  scattering  his  light.  In  this  view,  we 
may  regard  heaven,  where  God  is  perfectly  glorified  in 
his  saints,  as  the  firmament  studded  with  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands  of  mir- 
rors, every  one  of  them  reflecting  a  perfect  image  of  God, 
the  Sun  in  the  centre,  and  filling  the  universe  with  the 
blaze  of  his  glory." 

"Whenever  you  feel  any  thing  within  you,  my  dear 
young  friends,  urging  you  to  attend  to  religion,  it  is  the 
Spirit  of  God  ;  and  if  you  refuse  to  comply,  you  will  grieve 
him  away.  Suppose  God  should  let  down  from  heaven  a 
number  of  very  fine  cords,  and  if  any  person  should  take 
hold  of  one,  it  would  continue  to  grow  larger  and  strong- 
er, till  at  length  he  is  drawn  by  it  into  heaven.  Great 
care  would  be  necessary,  especially  at  first,  not  to  break 
it,  for  if  once  broken,  it  might  never  be  renewed.  How 
careful  should  we  expect  the  person  to  be,  to  whom  one 
of  these  cords  was  extended,  not  to  break  it,  to  avoid  all 
violence,  and  follow  wherever  it  led  him.  Just  so  anx- 
iously ought  you  to  cherish  those  good  impressions,  which 
are  produced  on  your  minds  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  for  if 
you  once  grieve  him,  he  may  never  return." 

"Suppose  a  man  builds  a  temple,  with  one  seat  in  it 
vory  high  and  much  ornamented  ;  and  another  very  far 


286 


MEMOIU  Of 


below  it.  You  ask  him,  for  whom  those  seats  are  de- 
signed, and  he  replies — "Why,  the  most  elevated  one  is 
for  me,  and  the  one  below  it  is  for  God."  Now,  in  this 
case,  you  can  all  see  the  horrible  absurdity  and  impiety  of 
such  conduct ;  and  yet  each  of  you,  who  continues  im- 
penitent, is  doing  this.  You  have  given  yourselves  the 
first  place  in  your  affections ;  you  have  thought  more  of 
yourselves,  than  of  God,  and  have  done  more  to  please 
yourselves,  than  to  please-God ,  in  short,  you  have,  in 
every  thing,  preferred  yourselves  before  him." 

"Suppose  there  was  a  book,  in  which  the  whole  of  your 
life  was  recorded,  each  page  of  which  contained  the  e- 
vents  of  a  day.  At  the  beginning  was  written,  "This  is 
the  life  of  a  rational,  immortal,  accountable  creature,  pla- 
ced in  this  world  to  prepare  for  eternity."  Then  com- 
mences a  long  catalogue  of  sins  ;  every  page  is  successive- 
ly covered  with  blots.  Besides  all  these,  there  are  the 
sins  of  omission,  or  duties  neglected,  which  swell  to  a  still 
greater  amount.  There  are  more  than  fifty  commands 
binding  upon  you  every  moment ;  such  as,  to  repent,  to 
believe,  to  love  Christ,  to  watch,  pray,  &c.  none  of  which 
you  perform.  Thus  you  commit,  to  say  the  least,  fifty 
sins  in  a  moment.  Add  to  these,  the  first  mentioned  class 
of  transgressions,  and,  O,  what  an  amount  of  guilt  does 
the  record  of  each  day  present !  At  the  bottom  of  every 
page,  it  is  written,  did  this  person  love  God,  to-day  ?  No, 
Did  he  feel  any  gratitude  for  mercies  ?  No.  Did  he  o- 
bey  any  of  God's  commands?  No.  Did  he  perform  any 
part  of  the  work  for  which  he  was  created  1  No." 

One  of  his  most  acceptable  methods  of  communicating 
instruction,  and  exciting  a  religious  interest,  was  by  visits 
to  the  families  of  his  parishioners ;  and  though  he  speaks 
of  himself,  as  living  extempore,  they  will  cheerfully  give 
him  credit  for  system  in  this  branch  of  duty.  It  was  a 
custom  which  he  commenced  almost  simultaneously  with 
his  ministry,  to  give  notice  from  the  pulpit,  that  the  fami- 
lies in  a  particular  district,  or  street,  might  expect  him  at 
a  given  time,  in  the  course  of  the  following  week,  and  to 
request,  that,  if  consistent  with  their  engagements,  they 
would  all  be  at  home ;  he  wished  to  see  the  family  togeth- 


EDWARD  PAYSON, 


287 


er.  Accordingly,  when  he  entered  a  house,  he  usually 
found  all  in  readiness  for  his  reception,  and  could  proceed, 
without  the  loss  of  a  moment,  to  deliver  his  message. 
The  time  he  spent  in  a  family  did  not  usually  exceed 
twenty  or  thirty  minutes  ;  but  it  was  completely  filled  up 
with  religious  conversation  and  prayer.  He  could  say 
much  in  a  short  time,  and  never  failed  to  'divide  a  portion 
to  every  member'  capable  of  receiving  it.  His  "often  in- 
firmities" compelled  him  to  relinquish  this  practice,  and, 
for,  some  years  before  his  death,  to  limit  his  visits  princi- 
pally to  houses  of  affliction.  But  these,  in  a  parish,  com- 
prising thousands  of  souls,  were,  necessarily,  very  nu- 
merous. 

He  did  not  decline  occasional  invitations  to  evening 
parties,  as  he  had  given  his  people  to  understand,  that  he 
desired  none  to  send  for  him,  who  did  not  wish  him  to 
eome  as  a  minister  of  Christ.  In  this  character,  however, 
he  was  usually  a  welcome  guest;  for  though  he  was  invari- 
ably serious  and  faithful,  he  was  neither  abrupt  nor  for- 
bidding in  his  manner  of  bringing  forward  religious  topics. 
The  divine  model  he  had  so  diligently  studied,  taught  hini 
how  to  avail  himself  of  passing  observations  and  occurren- 
ces to  introduce  and  enforce  man's  obligation  to  attend  to 
his  highest  interests.  He  always  seized  the  right  moment 
to  bring  forward  and  urge  his  Master's  claims;  and  when 
he  had  obtained  the  ground,  he  was  certain  not  to  yield  it 
— indeed,  none  could  wish  to  dispossess  him.  The  sub- 
ject which  he  so  naturally  and  easily  introduced,  he  would 
expatiate  upon,  and  illustrate,  and  hold  the  listening  com- 
pany in  fixed  and  solemn  attention,  from  one  to  three 
hours.  Here  were  witnessed  some  of  the  most  enraptur- 
ing and  powerful  strains  of  his  sacred  eloquence.  A  visi- 
ting party,  whose  conversation  was  conducted  by  him,  had 
all  the  advantage  of  a  religious  meeting  in  the  article  of 
instruction,  and  fell  scarcely  short  in  solemnity.  To  him 
it  was  often  as  laborious,  as  a  public  lecture,  as  it  regards 
both  preparation,  and  the  exercise  of  speaking.  He  usu- 
ally  commenced  and  closed  the  interview  by  prayer. 

It  is  obvious,  how  much  such  a  manner  of  conducting 
social  visits  must  tend  to  cultivate  and  cherish  a  religious 
spirit  in  society.  Every  one  has  observed,  that,  as  they 
are  often  conducted,  a  single  visit  supplies  matter  for  a 


288 


MEMOin  OF 


month's  gossip  and  scandal — evils,  which  infect  not  only 
the  individuals  who  were  present,  but  their  families  and 
associates.  But  social  intercourse,  conducted  on  Chris- 
tian principles,  precludes  these  and  similar  evils,  besides 
effecting  positive  good.  The  party  separate  with  salutary 
impressions  upon  their  minds,  and  carry  more  or  less  of  a 
holy  savor  into  their  respective  families.  Religion  be- 
comes the  subject  of  domestic  conversation,  which  is  ren- 
dered more  intelligent  and  profitable  by  the  very  means, 
which  too  frequently  operate  as  a  disqualification  for  the 
duty.  In  truth,  no  finite  mind  can  trace  all  the  happy 
consequences  which  flow  from  the  habit  of  associating  re- 
ligion with  all  the  intercourse  and  occurrences  of  life. 

That  it  was  a  leading  object  with  him  to  introduce  and 
extend  this  habit  among  his  people,  appears  from  almost 
every  act  of  his  official  life.  It  accounts,  in  part,  for  his 
remarkable  circumspection,  and  unfailing  care,  to  set  an 
example,  in  his  own  person,  oi  doing  all  things  to  the  glory 
of  God.  It  was  not  without  reference  to  this,  probably, 
that  he  dedicated  his  own  private  dwelling  to  God  ;  or 
rather,  that  when  he  did  this,  he  called  in  some  of  his 
neighbors,  to  participate  in  the  solemnities  ;  and  it  was 
not  without  its  influence.  He  was  called,  in  his  turn,  to 
officiate  on  similar  occasions  for  them.  A  scene  of  this 
kind  is  still  recollected  with  lively  interest,  by  the  mem- 
bers of  a  numerous  family.  In  his  prayer,  he  anticipated 
almost  every  possible  circumstance  in  their  future  history 
with  that  reverent  particularity,  in  which  he  was,  perhaps, 
unrivalled  ;  and  in  such  select,  appropriate,  and  vivid  ex- 
pressions, as  gave  the  very  walls  of  the  habitation  a  tongue 
that  has  not  since  ceased  to  speak.  The  thought,  that  it 
is  a  consecrated  house,  is  suited  to  check  all  tendencies  to 
sinful  levity.  One  of  the  events  anticipated  in  the  prayer 
has  already  taken  place  ;  and  the  children  of  the  family, 
who  now  are  all  members  of  the  visible  church,  could 
tell  with  what  comforting  and  sustaining  power  it  was 
brought  home  to  their  hearts,  while  surrounding  the  tri- 
umphant death-bed  of  an  invaluable  mother. 

From  the  most  casual  interview  with  him  the  Christian 
could  not  separate,  without  being  instructed,  humbled,  and 
revived  ;  nor  the  impenitent  sinner  without  a  topic  for  re- 
flection— perhaps  an  arrow  in  his  heart.    He  exemplified 


EDWARD  PAVSON. 


289 


one  of  his  own  remarks — "  Our  unconverted  friends  should 
feel  that  our  whole  deportment,  and  even  our  very  silence 
declares,  that  we  earnestly  seek  their  salvation." 

A  circumstance  which  gave  to  his  company  one  of  its 
most  attractive  charms,  was  his  great  condescension  and 
affability,  which  entirely  relieved  the  interlocutors  of  all 
embarrassment.  No  matter  how  awkwardly  or  defectively 
they  expressed  their  difficulties,  or  proposed  their  queries 
— it  was  enough  for  him  that  he  knew  their  meaning.  He 
took  no  advantage  of  these  defects  to  mortify  them,  and 
show  off  his  own  superiority  ;  he  never  asked  them  to  re- 
peat, and  "  dtfine,  precisely  what  th-  y  wanted," — a  chilling 
practice  with  some  affectedly  wise  and  accurate  men,  which 
must  effectually  silence  the  weak  and  illiterate,  and  cut 
off  from  them  alfliope  of  improvement : — he  took  this  la- 
bor upon  himself  If  he  perceived  them  in  danger  of  em- 
barrassment, he  would  interpose  and  help  them  out.  The 
most  broken  and  imperfect  expressions  were  sufficient  to 
indicate  to  him  the  exact  wants  and  feelings  of  the  speak- 
er. So  truly  was  this  the  case,  that  his  knowledge  of  oth- 
ers' thoughts  would  appear  to  a  witness  almost  intuitive  ; 
and  he  was  equally  prompt  to  apply  the  appropriate  coun- 
sel. It  was  from  ignorance  of  his  power  of  perception  in 
this  respect,  that  some  have  spoken  of  his  inquiry  meet- 
ings, during  the  latter  half  of  his  ministry,  as  more  prop- 
erly entitled  to  the  appellation  of  lectures,  or  meetings  for 
exhortation.  But  his  remarks  were  as  really  predicated 
on  the  known  states  of  mind  in  the  assembly,  as  they  ever 
are  in  any  inquiry  meeting,  however  conducted.  The 
truth  is,  besides  watching  the  individual  characters  of  his 
charge  for  years,  he  had  so  thoroughly  studied  the  moral 
and  spiritual  nature  of  man,  in  connection  with  the  scrip- 
tures, that  he  could  distinguish  the  symptoms,  which  in- 
dicate the  state  of  the  heart,  with  as  much  readiness  and 
certainty,  as  the  most  skilful  physician  can  those  of  bodily 
disease. 

It  was  not  to  man  in  one  attitude  or  situation  only,  that 
he  could  adapt  himself;  but  to  men  in  all  situations,  and 
of  every  variety  of  rank  and  character,  and  every  degree 
of  intellectual  culture.  A  bereaved  husband,  in  another 
town,  to  whom  he  was  known  only  by  report,  but  whose 
wife's  obsequies  he  providentially  attended, — inquired, 
2. 5 


290 


MEMOIR  OF 


sometime  after  the  funeral,  if  Mr.  Payson  had  married  a 
second  wife, — inferring  from  his  prayer,  that  he  knew  ex- 
perimentally the  feelings  inseparable  from  a  state  of  wid- 
owhood. 

The  following  imperfectly  described  rencounter  with  a 
lawyer  of  Portland,  who  ranked  among  the  first  in  the 
place  for  wealth,  and  was  very  fluent  withal,  will  serve  to 
show  Mr.  Payson's  insight  into  character,  and  his  power 
to  mould  it  to  what  form  he  pleased  ;  and  at  the  same  time 
prove,  what  might  be  confirmed  by  many  other  instances, 
that  his  conquests  were  not  confined  to  "  weak  women  and 
children." 

A  lady,  who  was  the  common  friend  of  Mrs.  Payson  and 
the  lawyer's  wife,  was  sojourning  in  the  family  of  the  lat- 
ter. After  the  females  of  the  respective  families  had  in- 
terchanged several  "calls,"  Mrs.  was  desirous  of  re- 
ceiving a  formal  visit  from  Mrs.  Payson  ;  but  to  effect  this, 
Mr.  Payson  must  also  be  invited,  and  how  to  prevail  with 
her  husband  to  tender  an  invitation,  was  the  great  diffi- 
culty. He  had  been  accustomed  to  associate  experimental 
religion  with  meanness,  and,  of  course,  felt  or  affect- 
ed great  contempt  for  Mr.  Payson,  as  if  it  were  impos- 
sible for  a  man  of  his  religion  to  be  also  a  man  of  talents. 
He  knew  by  report  something  of  Mr.  Payson's  practice, 
on  such  occasions,  and,  dreading  to  have  his  house  the 
scene  of  what  appeared  to  him  a  gloomy  interview,  resist- 
ed his  wife's  proposal  as  long  as  he  could,  and  retain 
the  character  of  a  gentleman.  When  he  gave  his  consent, 
it  was  with  the  positive  determination,  that  Mr.  Payson 
should  not  converse  on  religion,  nor  ask  a  blessing  over 
his  food,  nor  ofTer  a  prayer  in  his  house.  He  collected  his 
forces,  and  made  his  preparation,  in  conformity  with  this 
purpose  ;  and  when  the  appointed  day  arrived,  received  his 
guests  very  pleasantly,  and  entered,  at  once,  into  anima- 
ted conversation, — determined,  by  obtruding  his  own  fa- 
vorite topics,  to  forestall  the  divine.  It  was  not  long  be- 
fore the  latter  discovered  his  object,  and  summoned 
together  his  powers  to  defeat  it.  He  plied  them  with  that 
skill  and  address,  for  which  he  was  remarkable  ;  still,  for 
some  time,  victory  inclined  to  neither  side,  or  to  both  al- 
ternately.— The  lawyer,  not  long  before,  had  returned  from 
Washington  City,  where  he  had  spent  several  weeks  on 


EDWAIll)  PAVsiON. 


291 


business  at  tlie  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States.  Mr. 
Payson  instituted  some  inquiries  respecting  sundry  per- 
sonages tiiere,  and  among  others,  the  Chaplain  of  the 
House  of  Representatives.  The  counsellor  had  heard  him 
perform  the  devotional  services  in  that  assembly.  "  How 
did  you  like  him  1" — "  Not  at  all ;  he  appeared  to  have 
more  regard  to  those  around  him,  than  he  did  to  his  Ma- 
ker."— Mr.  Payson  was  very  happy  to  see  him  recognize 
the  distinction  between  praying  to  God,  and  praying  to  be 
heard  of  men  ;  and  let  fall  a  series  of  weighty  observations 
on  prayer,  passing  into  a  strain  of  remark,  which,  without 
taking  the  form,  had  all  the  effect,  on  the  lawyer's  con- 
science, of  a  personal  application.  From  a  topic  so  un- 
welcome he  strove  to  divert  the  conversation  ;  and,  every 
few  minutes,  would  start  something  as  wide  from  it,  as  the 
east  is  from  the  west.  But  as  often  as  he  wandered,  his 
guest  would,  dexterously  and  without  violence,  bring  him 
back  ;  and  as  often  as  he  was  brought  back,  he  would 
wander  again.  At  length  the  trying  moment,  which  was 
to  turn  the  scale,  arrived.  The  time  for  the  evening  re- 
past had  come  ;  the  servant  had  entered  the  parlor  with 
the  provisions  ;  the  master  of  the  feast,  became  unusually 
eloquent,  resolved  to  engross  the  conversation,  to  hear  no 
question  or  reply,  to  allow  no  interval  for  "  grace,"  and  to 
give  no  indication  by  the  eye,  the  hand,  or  the  lips,  that 
he  expected,  or  wished  for  such  a  service.  Just  as  the 
distribution  was  on  the  very  point  of  commencing,  Mr. 
Payson  interposed  the  question — "  What  writer  has  said 
— '  The  devil  invented  the  fashion  of  carrying  round  tea, 
to  prevent  a  blessing  being  asked  V — Our  host  felt  him- 
self "  cornered  ;"  but,  making  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
promptly  replied — "  I  don't  know  what  writer  it  is  ;  but, 
if  you  please,  we  will  foil  the  devil,  this  time  : — Will  you 
ask  a  blessing.  Sir  ?" — A  blessing,  of  course,  was  asked  ; 
and  he  brooked,  as  well  as  he  could,  this  first  certain  de- 
feat, still  resolved  not  to  sustain  another  by  the  offering  of 
thanks  on  closing  the  repast.  But  in  this,  too,  he  was  dis- 
appointed. By  some  well-timed  sentiment  of  his  reverend 
guest,  he  was  brought  into  such  a  dilemma,  that  he  could 
not,  without  absolute  rudeness,  decline  asking  him  to  re- 
turn thanks.  And  thus  he  contested  every  inch  of  his 
ground,  till  the  visit  terminated.    But  at  every  stage,  the 


292 


MEMOIR  Of 


minister  proved  too  much  for  the  lawyer.  He  sustained 
his  character,  as  a  minister  of  religion,  and  gained  his  point 
in  every  thing  ;  and  that  too,  with  so  admirable  a  tact,  in 
a  way  so  natural  and  unconstrained,  and  with  such  re- 
spectful deference  to  his  host,  that  the  latter  could  not  be 
displeased,  except  with  himself  Mr.  Payson  not  only  ac- 
knowledged God  on  the  reception  of  food,  but  read  the 
scriptures  and  prayed  before  separating  from  the  family  ; 
and  did  it,  too,  at  the  request  of  the  master — though  this 
request  was  made,  in  every  successive  instance,  in  viola- 
tion of  a  fixed  purpose.  The  chagrin  of  this  disappoint- 
ment, however,  eventually  became  the  occasion  of  his 
greatest  joy.  His  mind  was  never  entirely  at  ease,  till  he 
found  peace  in  believing.  Often  did  he  revert,  with  de- 
vout thankfulness  to  God,  to  the  visit  which  had  occasion- 
ed his  mortification  ;  and  ever  after  regarded,  with  more 
than  common  veneration  and  respect,  the  servant  of  God, 
whom  he  had  once  despised  ;  and  was  glad  to  receive  his 
ministrations,  in  exchange  for  those  on  which  he  had  for- 
merly attended. 

His  knowledge  was  not,  as  many  have  supposed,  limited 
chiefly  to  theology ;  he  was  familiar,  beyond  what  is  com- 
mon, with  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences, — so  much  so,that 
eminent  men  of  the  different  professions,  who  have  inci- 
dentally met  with  him,  without  knowing  who  he  was, 
have,  for  the  first  half  hour  of  their  conversation,  mista- 
ken him  for  one  of  their  own  class.  By  physicians  he 
has  been  thought  a  physician;  and  a  lawyer,  by  lawyers; 
and  even  the  experienced  senator  has  found  him  an  invin- 
cible antagonist,  on  ground  which  his  profession  merely 
would  not  require  him  to  assume. 

He  never  ceased  to  add  to  his  stock  of  knowledge ; 
and  his  intelligent  manner  of  conversing  on  any  topic 
whatever,  would  excite  less  of  wonder,  if  the  amount  of 
his  reading  were  known.  He  was  a  subscriber  for  Rees's 
Cyclopedia,  and  read  the  numbers,  generally  throughout, 
as  they  successively  jssued  from  the  press.  He  has  been 
reputed  a  great  novel  reader ;  but  this  report,  as  it  would 
be  naturally  understood,  misrepresents  him.  He  expend- 
ed little  money  or  time  on  books  of  this  class.  He  knew 
something  of  every  fictitious  work,  which  was  introdu- 
ced into  the  place ;  but  this  knowledge  was  gained,  per 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


293 


haps,  in  an  hour's  time,  in  some  retired  corner  of  a  book- 
store, which  was  kept  by  one  of  his  parish.  lie  had  good 
reasons  for  knowing  what  kind  of  books  circulated  among 
his  people,  and  especially,  if  any  of  them  were  immoral  in 
their  tendency.  If  he  read  them  on  his  own  account,  it 
was  for  mere  relaxation,  from  which  his  vigorous  and  well 
balanced  mind  derived  strength  and  freshness  for  more 
solid  pursuits. 

His  own  views  of  a  proper  course  of  reading  to  be  pur- 
sued by  a  Christian,  were  once  given,  extempore,  in  con- 
versation, from  which  it  will  be  seen,  that  novels  have,  at 
most,  but  a  very  dubious  place. 

"It  may  be  proper,  and  perhaps,  advantageous  for  a 
Christian  to  read  sparingly  works  of  taste.  History  he 
ought  to  read,  and  biography.  Some  knowledge  of  the 
philosophy  of  the  mind  is  desirable,  and  may  be  obtained 
without  very  great  expense  of  time.  Church  histdry,  and 
a  knowledge  of  ancient  eastern  customs,  will  be  very  use- 
ful. Every  kind  of  knowledge,  which  expands,  strength- 
ens, and  adoms  the  mind,  may  be  properly  .sought  by  the 
Christian,  and  ought  to  be  sought  by  every  Christian, 
who  has  leisure  and  opportunity  for  reading.  Our  aim 
in  seeking  it  should  be,  to  qualify  ourselves  to  serve  and 
glorify  God  more  effectually,  and  to  increase  our  power 
of  being  useful  to  our  fellow  creatures.  It  is  an  old  re- 
mark, that,  "knowledge  is  power."  To  increase  our 
knowledge,  then,  is  to  increase  our  power  of  doing  good. 
Highly  as  I  prize  such  writers  as  Fenelon,  Kempis,  &-c., 
I  am  convinced  we  may  study  them,  not,  perhaps,  too 
much,  but  too  exclusively.  We  may  study  them  to  the 
exclusion  of  other  writers,  whose  works  demand  our  at- 
tention ;  and  we  may  be  so  intent  upon  watching  our 
feelings,  as  to  forget  to  watch  our  words  and  actions.  As 
some  are  content  with  a  religion  which  is  all  body,  so 
others  may  aim  at  a  religion  which  is  all  soul ;  but  relig- 
ion has  a  body,  as  well  as  a  soul.  If  some  think  it  suffi- 
cient to  cleanse  the  outside  of  the  cup,  others  may  be  so 
much  occupied  in  cleansing  it  within,  as  to  forget  that  it 
has  an  outside.    Both  deserve  attention." 


25* 


294 


MEMOIK  OF 


The  press,  which  is  with  some  their  principal  means  of 
usefulness,  was  very  little  employed  by  Mr  Payson.  He 
cherished  a  very  low  estimate  of  his  own  qualities,  as  a 
writer,  and  could  rarely  be  persuaded  to  submit  a  produc- 
tion for  publication.  To  a  request  from  a  maternal  asso- 
ciation in  Boston,  for  the  copy  of  a  sermon  of  a  specified 
character,  he  replied — "It  would  gratify  me  exceedingly 
to  comply  with  the  request.  There  is  no  honor,  no  fa- 
vor, that  God  can  bestow,  which  I  should  prize  more 
highly,  than  that  of  doing  good  with  my  pen,  of  leaving 
something  behind  me  to  speak  for  Christ,  when  I  am  si- 
lent in  dust.  But  this  honor,  he  who  distributes  his  gifts 
to  every  man,  as  he  will,  does  not  see  fit  to  grant  me.  My 
sermons  will  not  bear  perusal.  I  must  resign  the  privi- 
lege of  doing  good  with  the  pen  to  those  who  are  more 
able."  He  certainly  undervalued  hinisell  as  a  writer  ;  or 
else  the  Christian  public  have  widely  erred  in  their  esti- 
mation of  the  very  few  publications,  to  which,  during  his 
life  time,  he  consented.  His  discourse  before  the  Bible 
Society  of  Maine,  in  1814,  was  the  first,  which  he  suffer- 
ed to  go  to  the  press,  and  the  myriads  of  copies,  which 
have  been  put  in  circulation,  show  in  what  manner  it  is 
appreciated.  And  yet,  while  correcting  the  press,  he 
says  of  it,  "it  seemed  so  flat,  I  would  have  given  any 
thing  to  recall  it  from  the  press." 

The  success  of  this  sermon  is  a  good  comment  on  the 
secret  history  of  its  origin  : 

"May  2,  1814,  Mond. — Was  so  much  exhausted,  that 
I  could  scarcely  move.  Made  a  few  visits.  Tried  to 
write  ;  but  felt  that  I  could  as  soon  make  a  world,  as  write 
a  sermon  for  Thursday,  without  special  divine  assistance, 

"May  3. — Was  employed  all  the  forenoon  in  preparing 
a  sermon  to  be  preached  before  the  Bible  Society.  Felt 
that  I  was  utterly  incapable  of  it,  and  that  if  I  was  ena- 
bled to  write  one,  the  glory  would  not  be  mine.  Prayed 
for  assistance  with  a  strong  hope  of  obtaining  it.  Made 
a  few  visits. 

"May  4. — Was  employed  upon  my  sermon,  and  was  fa- 
vored with  considerable  assistance.  Felt,  I  hope,  some 
thankfulness.    But  all  my  prayers  for  assistance,  as  well 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


295 


as  ray  thankfulness  for  it,  are  so  mixed  with  selfishness, 
that  they  are  worse  than  nothing.  In  the  afternoon  at- 
tended the  funeral  of  my  oldest  deacon.  Wished  to  be 
suitably  affected,  and  to  see  others  so.  Found  a  large 
concourse  of  people  assembled  ;  made  a  few  observations 
to  them,  but  was  much  straightened. 

"May  5. — Completed  my  sermon.  Felt  much  dissatis- 
fied with  it.  Prayed  that  it  might  be  blessed  to  convey 
more  to  the  minds  of  others,  than  it  did  to  my  own.  In 
the  evening  preached  ;  a  most  oppressive  air,  and  I  spoke 
with  difiiculty.  Concluded,  from  observations  made  after 
meeting,  that  the  sermon  might  have  done  some  good  ; 
if  so,  to  God  belongs  all  the  glory,  and  to  him  may  I  be 
enabled  to  ascribe  it." 

Portland,  May  24,  1814. 
"Not  long  after  you  receive  this,  you  may  expect  a  let- 
ter in  print ;  that  is  to  say,  a  discourse,  which  I  have 
been  compelled,  sadly  against  my  will,  to  give  into  the 
hands  of  the  printer.  It  is  a  discourse  lately  delivered  be- 
fore the  Bible  Society.  Fifteen  hundred  copies  were 
subscribed  for,  and  a  promise  made,  that  the  profits  should 
go  to  purchase  Bibles.  Finding,  that  the  profits  would 
be  sufficient  to  purchase,  at  least,  one  hundred  and  fifty 
Bibles,  I  could  not,  in  conscience  refuse.  So,  as  soon  as 
it  comes  from  the  press,  which  will  be  in  a  very  few  days, 
you  will  probably  receive  one.  Do,  my  dear  parents, 
pray,  pray  earnestly  for  the  poor  orphan,  that  it  may  do 
good  in  the  world.  I  have  never  been  assisted  to  pray  so 
much  for  any  one  sermon,  as  this  ;  and  that  encouraged 
me  to  let  it  see  the  light.  If  it  never  does  any  other  good, 
it  will  be  the  means  of  giving  the  Bible  to  many,  who 
would  otherwise  remain  without  it." 

A  very  excellent  Thanksgiving  Sermon  was  also  given 
to  the  public,  in  1820,  for  a  similar  reason,  viz.  a  prom- 
ise, which  was  amply  fulfilled,  that  it  should  be  made  to 
produce  something  for  missionary  purposes. 

His  "Address  to  Seamen"  was  the  next,  in  order,  of  his 
publications.    Men,  affecting  considerable  pretensions  to 


296 


literature,  have  been  heard  to  speak  of  this  production,  as 
a  gross  violation  of  good  taste.  But  the  author  knew  his 
object,  and  the  way  in  which  he  could  best  accomplish  it. 
He  was  not  writing  an  oration  for  the  alumni  of  a  college, 
nor  an  article  for  a  Quarterly  Review,  nor  a  "pretty  dis- 
course" for  a  fashionable  auditory,  but  an  address  to  sea- 
men. He  had  enjoyed  more  than  common  advantages 
for  studying  the  character  of  this  class  of  his  fellow  men ; 
and  understood  their  vocabulary,  almost  as  well  as  them- 
selves— so  well,  that  an  experienced  sea-captain  was  able 
to  detect,  in  the  whole  address,  but  a  single  nautical  term, 
whose  application  involved  a  misconception  of  its  use. 
As  a  model,  it  would  be  dangerous  to  imitate  it — the  at- 
tempt, indeed,  would  be  ridiculous.  But  if  it  is  not  a  good 
address,  the  public  is  strangely  erroneous  in  its  "taste," 
and  the  effect  which  it  produced,  not  only  on  its  hearers, 
but  on  its  readers,  far  and  wide,  is  wholly  unaccountable. 
Its  popularity,  from  the  very  first,  has  been  unrivalled  by 
any  thing  of  its  kind  ;  copies  of  it  have  been  multiplied  to 
an  extent  past  computation.  It  has  been  translated  into 
some  of  the  languages  of  the  old  world,  and  pretty  exten- 
sively circulated  on  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean,  from 
the  press  at  Malta.  And  if  report  be  true,  some  divines 
of  the  mother  country  have  not  thought  it  disgraceful  to 
claim  a  parental  relation  to  it.  Still,  it  was  no  labored 
production  ;  it  was  happily  conceived,  but  the  author  does 
not  appear  to  have  laid  himself  out  to  produce  any  thing 
very  extraordinary — it  was  thrown  off,  almost  at  a  sitting, 
and  at  a  time  when  he  was  "encompassed  with  infirmi- 
ties," and  heavily  pressed  by  other  labors.  This  is  evi- 
dent from  his  private  record  : 

"Off.  22,  23,  1821.— Very  unwell,  these  two  days. 
Could  do  nothing,  though  I  have  four  sermons  to  prepare 
this  we?k.  Was,  for  a  moment,  tempted  to  murmur  ;  but 
the  recollection  of  God's  past  kindness  and  faithfulness 
prevented  me,  and  caused  faith  to  revive. 

"Ocf.  24. — Was  better  to  day  ;  and  wrote  almost  the 
whole  of  an  ad  dress  to  seamen,  to  be  delivered  Sabbath 
evening.  Felt  some  degree  of  gratitude,  and  resolved 
never  to  refuse  to  improve  any  opportunity  of  doing  good, 
because  I  seemed  not  to  have  lime  for  it. 


EDWAUI)  I'AYSON. 


297 


"Oct.  25. — Was  furnished  with  a  suitable  text  and  ser- 
mon for  this  evening,  without  much  labor.  How  gra- 
cionsly  and  wisely  does  God  deal  with  me  !  How  much  I 
ought  to  love  and  trust  him.  Tried  to  preach  my  sermon 
to  myself.  Went  to  the  house  of  God  in  nmch  such  a 
frame  as  I  should  wish  to  go  ;  but  had  no  assistance  in 
preaching,  and  got  through  with  difficulty.  But  felt  sat- 
isfied that  it  should  be  so,  and  was  enabled  to  rejoice  in 
the  Lord. 

"Oct.  26. — Was  assisted,  to  day,  in  writing,  and  had 
a  precious  season  in  prayer. 

"Oct.  27. — Sick,  to-day — a  violent  head-ache,  with 
some  fever.  Did  not  see  how  I  could  complete  my  pre- 
paration for  to-morrow,  but  felt  satisfied  and  easy.  Saw 
it  was  best  I  should  have  some  rebuH';  took  courage  I'rora 
it,  and  hope,  that  God  meant  to  bless  my  labors,  to- 
morrow. In  the  evening  wrote  considerable,  notwith- 
standing my  head-ache;  and  after  I  retired,  was  almost 
painfully  happy,  rejoicing  in  God  with  joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory. 

"Oct.  28,  Sab. — Some  better,  this  morning.  Finished 
a  sermon  for  the  afternoon,  on  increasing  in  the  knowl- 
edge ofGod.  Was  almost  insupportably  happy,  and  could 
hnrdly  refrain  from  shouting  aloud  for  joy.  Was  assisted 
in  praying  for  others  ;  yet  had  no  assistance  in  public 
prayer  or  preaching.  In  the  evening,  preached  to  sea- 
men— an  overflowing  house  ;  aisles  and  pulpit  stairs  full, 
and  hundreris  went  away,  who  could  not  get  in.  Was 
enabled  to  go  through  tolerably.  As  soon  as  I  came 
down,  was  beset  so  importunately  for  a  copy  for  the  press, 
that  1  could  not  refuse." 

Portland,  Nov.  25,  1821. 
"My  address  to  seamen  is  published,  and  I  shall  send 
you  one  with  this.  They  have  printed  nine  thousand 
copies ;  three  thousand  in  the  sermon  form,  and  six  thou- 
sand in  the  form  of  a  tract.  They  mean  to  send  them  to 
every  sea-port  in  the  United  States.  I  know  you  will 
pray,  that  a  blessing  may  go  with  it.  It  produced  a  great 
effect  up  n  seamen  and  others  for  a  time  ;  but  I  do  not 
know  that  any  have  been  really  awakened  by  it.  One 


MBMUIK  UF 


hundred  and  forty  sailors  applied,  the  next  day,  for  Bi- 
bles, most  of  whom  paid  for  them.  I  could  not  but  won- 
der to  see  God  work  by  it.  I  had  only  ten  days'  notice, 
and,  during  that  time,  had  to  prepare  and  preach  six  ser- 
mons, besides  the  address  and  another  sermon,  which  I 
did  not  preach." 

Dec.  26. 

"If  I  do  not  feel  thankful  for  any  other  favor,  which 
God  gives  me,  I  do  feel  some  gratitude,  when  he  ena- 
bles me  to  do  any  thing,  which  gives  pleasure  to  the  heart 
of  my  mother.  If  you  were  dead,  one  half  the  gratifica- 
tion I  feel,  when  I  publish  any  thing,  which  is  well  re- 
ceived, would  be  gone.  I  should  also  lose  one  half  of  my 
hopes,  that  any  thing  I  publish  will  do  good  ;  for  I  build 
my  hopes  very  much  on  your  prayers  for  a  blessing.  I 
suppose  you,  or  H.  sent  me  the  Keene  paper,  which  con- 
tains my  address.  It  has  been  published  in  two  other 
papers,  and  in  a  Baptist  Magazine,  at  Boston  ;  and  I  have 

just  received  a  letter  from  Professor  P's  wife,  at  ,  in 

behalf  of  a  number  of  ladies  there,  who  wish  to  publish  a 
large  edition,  in  the  form  of  a  tract.  I  have  requested 
our  church  to  pray,  that  a  blessing  may  go  with  it,  and  I 
doubt  not  you  will  continue  to  pray.  If  it  does  any  good, 
it  will  be  owing  to  prayer." 

His  other  publication  was  a  sermon,  preached  before 
the  "Marine  Bible  Society  of  Boston,"  entitled  "The  Ora- 
cles of  God" — a  much  more  labored  production  than  ei- 
ther of  his  other  published  discourses,  and  yet,  for  some 
cause,  it  has  been  far  less  popular. — Besides  these,  he 
furnished  a  manuscript  sermon  for  the  National  Preacher, 
which  appeared  soon  after  his  decease 


EDWARD  PATSON. 


290 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

His  exertions  without  the  bounds  of  his  parish — Influence 
on  his  ministerial  associates — in  resuscitating  and  edify- 
ing other  churches — Visits  "  The  Springs" — effect  oj 
his  example,  conversation,  and  prayers  on  other  visiters 
— Excursions  in  behalf  of  Charitable  Societies — Trans- 
lation of  ministers — He  is  invited  to  Boston  and  New- 
York. 

It  is  not  easy  to  estimate  the  usefulness  of  a  man  in 
public  life,  whose  numerous  relations  bring  him  into  con- 
tact with  his  fellow  men,  in  a  great  variety  of  circumstan- 
ces. A  minister  of  the  gospel,  especially  at  this  day,  is 
not  an  insulated  individual,  whose  influence  is  limited  by 
parochial  bounds.  His  presence,  counsel,  example,  pray- 
ers, give  shape,  tone,  direction,  energy  to  public  institu- 
tions for  enlightening  the  human  species,  alleviating  its 
sufferings,  and  extending  the  empire  of  holiness.  It  is, 
indeed,  no  slight  honor,  to  be  permitted  to  feed  and  build 
up  a  single  branch  of  the  church  of  God.  To  see  the 
number  of  believers  multiplied,  and  converted  sinners 
joining  themselves  to  the  people  of  God,  as  the  fruit  of  his 
labors,  is  an  adequate  reward  for  the  pastor's  most  ardu- 
ous toils,  and  for  all  the  solicitude,  with  which  his  anxious 
bosom  is  afflicted.  And  yet  the  increase  and  edification 
of  his  own  particular  charge,  may  be  only  a  small  part  of 
the  good,  which  is  to  be  traced,  more  or  less  directly,  to 
his  instrumentality.  The  many  hundreds,  to  whom  Mr. 
Payson's  labors  were  blessed  in  the  place  of  his  residence, 
and  whom  it  was  his  happiness  to  welcome  to  the  church 
under  his  special  supervision,  are  only  a  part,  and  may 
be  found  a  small  part  of  the  gems,  which  will  embellish 
his  crown  of  rejoicing  in  the  day  of  the  Lord.  To  ascer- 
tain the  whole  amount  of  his  usefulness,  we  must  know 
the  nature  and  degree  of  his  influence  upon  his  fellow 
laborers  in  the  ministry, — the  effect  of  his  occasional  la- 
bors in  different  and  distant  parts  of  the  country,  his  agen- 


300 


MEMOIR  OF 


oy  in  raising  the  tone  of  piety  in  all  the  churches,  which 
could  be  reached  by  his  influence,  the  results  of  his  pow- 
erful pleadings  in  behalf  of  religious  and  charitable  enter- 
prises, of  his  counsel  in  ecclesiastical  concerns,  and  as 
one  of  the  guardians  of  the  principal  seminary  of  learning 
in  Maine, — all,  in  short,  that  flowed  from  his  conscien- 
tious and  ever  watchful  regard,  wherever  he  was  and  with 
whomsoever  he  met,  to  the  apostolical  precept — "Consid- 
er one  another,  to  provoke  unto  love  and  to  good  works." 

It  is  not  intended  here,  to  give  him  a  character  at  the 
expense  of  his  brethren,  or  to  introduce  their  names,  as  a 
foil  to  his  excellencies.  Such  comparisons  are  always  in- 
vidious ;  and  besides,  where  many  are  associated  in  the 
same  cause,  it  is  difficult,  indeed  impossible,  to  define  the 
precise  degree  of  influence,  which  ought  to  be  ascribed  to 
each  ;  though  all,  probably,  will  admit  Mr.  Payson's  claim 
to  a  large  share,  and  not  a  few,  on  reviewing  the  past, 
will  see,  in  the  exigencies  of  the  churches  in  this  region, 
and  in  the  existing  standard  of  ministerial  disinterested- 
ness and  zeal,  causes  of  thankfulness  to  that  gracious 
Providence,  which  raised  up  and  sent  such  a  man  among 
them. 

His  presence  in  the  ministerial  association  to  which  he 
belonged,  though  often  prevented  by  the  frequent  recur- 
rence of  his  agonizing  "  head-ache,"  and  by  duties  at  home, 
which  he  could  not  dispense  with,  was  highly  valued  by  a 
majority  of  his  brethren.  He  was  a  strong  advocate  for 
devoting  the  first  part  of  the  time,  occupied  by  such  meet- 
ings, to  social  prayer.  Prayer  was  his  own  preparation 
for  every  duty  ,  and  he  felt  it  to  be  equally  important,  that 
it  should  be  a  common  preparation  for  a  social  duty. 
When  on  a  council  for  the  ordination  of  a  minister,  he 
was  always  on  the  watch  for  some  interval  of  time,  to  be 
consecrated  to  united  prayer,  with  particular  reference  to 
the  occasion  and  its  consequences.  In  ministers'  meet- 
ings, whether  the  immediate  object  were  mutual  edifica- 
tion, or  a  solution  were  requested  of  cases  of  cons(  ience, 
and  other  difficulties  which  often  arise  in  the  discharge  of 
the  sacred  office,  or  trying  cases  of  discipline  were  pre- 
sented for  advisement,  he  was  always  ready  to  speak  in 
his  turn,  and  always  spoke  to  the  purpose.  Atopic  sel- 
dom passed  him,  without  fresh  elucidation.    Any  propo- 


KUtVARU  PAYsON. 


501 


sition,  which  bore  the  least  trace  of  a  time-serving  poli- 
cy, or  mere  worldly  wisdom,  he  would  instantly  discoun- 
tenance. The  writer  has  known  him  to  do  this,  at  once, 
and  effectually,  by  a  very  few  words  of  his  own,  pointed 
with  one  of  Witherspoon's  "Characteristics." 

He  occasionally  perfijrmed  services  for  other  parishes, 
of  most  auspicious  bearing  on  the  cause  of  religion  ,  ser- 
vices, which  thousands  have  regretted,  that  his  health 
and  engagements  would  not  permit  liim  to  repeat.  The 
nature  of  the  service  alluded  to  will  be  seen  by  an  ex- 
tract : 

"  Portland,  Jan.  7,  1814. 

"  Mv  DEAR  Mother, 

"  Not  long  after  your  return,  I  went  to  ,  a  town 

about  forty  miles  from  this,  on  a  week's  missionary  ex- 
cursion. They  are  in  a  wretched  state — have  had  no 
settled  minister  for  seven  years.  The  only  minister  they 
ever  had,  proved  an  intemperate  man.  He  is  still 
living  in  the  place,  and  does  all  he  can  to  prejudice  the 
people  against  the  gospel,  and  all  who  preach  it. — Before 
1  proceed,  I  must  take  a  little  shame  to  myself,  that  God's 
goodness  may  appear  more  conspicuous.  1  commenced 
my  ride  by  going  to  G.  to  obtain  Mr.  H.  to  preach  for  me 
during  my  absence.  The  next  morning  it  slorm.ed  vio- 
lently ;  then  I  began  to  repent  of  my  undertaking.  How- 
ever, I  was  ashamed  to  go  back  ;  so  on  I  went  in  the 
storm.  I  was  tolerably  good  natured  the  first  part  of  the 
day  ;  but  the  storm  and  the  road  grew  worse  and  worse. 
First,  it  was  all  mire  and  clay  ;  then  nothing  but  hills  and 
stones.  I  began  to  grow  cross.  Every  bad  jolt  made  me 
worse,  till  I  felt  as  bad  as  Jonah  did,  and  was  ready  to 
say  with  him,  "I  do  well  to  be  angry.  '  Being  in  this 
frame,  I  concluded,  of  course,  that  I  should  do  no  good, 
wished  myself  at  home,  a  thousand  times,  and  more  than 
half  resolved  that  I  would  never  have  any  thing,  to  do 
with  a  missionary  tour  again.  However,  1  arrived  safe, 
and  began  my  labors,  and  soon  found  that  I  was  not  la- 
boring alone.  I  cannot  go  into  particulars.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  in  no  place,  not  even  in  Portland,  have  I  ever 
seen  so  much  of  God's  power  displayed  in  the  same  space 

26 


•302 


MEMOIR  or 


of  time,  as  during  the  six  days  I  spent  in  .  I  preach- 
ed six  times,  and  made  between  forty  and  fifty  famil>'  vis- 
its Many  were  awakened ;  almost  all  were  solemn. 
One  old  man  of  seventy,  among  the  wealthiest  in  the 
place,  who  has  always  been  against  doing  any  thing  to- 
ward the  settlement  of  a  minister,  was  very  deeply  im- 
pressed, and  has  promised  to  give  three  hundred  dollars 
towards  a  fund.  Two  others  will  give  three  hundred 
more  each. — I  was  obliged  to  return  home  on  account  of 
church  fast  and  communion ;  but  they  have  sent  for  me 
to  come  up  again,  and,  next  week.  Providence  permit- 
ting, I  shall  go.  Thus  was  I  shamed  and  confounded  by 
God's  goodness:  But  this  is  not  all.  1  came  home  thor- 
oughly drenched  by  the  shower  of  divine  influences,  which 

began  to  fall  at  ;  and  soon  found  that  the  cloud  had 

followed  me,  and  was  beginning  to  pour  itself  down  upon 
my  people.  Instead  of  a  fast,  we  appointed  a  season  of 
thanksgiving.  A  blessing  seemed  to  follow  it.  I  then 
invited  the  young  men  of  the  parish  to  come  to  my  house, 
on  Sabbath  evening  for  religious  purposes.  The  church 
thought  none  would  come.  I  expected  twenty  at  most. 
The  first  evening,  forty  came  ;  the  second,  sixty  ;  and 
the  third,  seventy.  This  was  the  last  Sabbath.  Six 
stopped,  after  the  rest  were  dismissed,  to  converse  more 
particularly  respecting  divine  things.  About  thirty  per- 
sons are  known  to  be  seriously  inquiring,  and  there  is 
every  appearance  that  the  work  is  spreading.  Meanwhile 
I  am  so  ashamed,  so  rejoiced,  and  so  astonished,  to  see 
what  God  is  doing,  that  I  can  scarcely  get  an  hour's  sleep." 

No  account  of  his  second  visit  has  been  preserved. 
The  hopes,  however,  which  had  been  excited  by  his  first, 
were  not  disappointed.  The  change,  which  then  com- 
menced, prevailed,  and  was  permanent.  In  the  follow- 
ing spring,  a  candidate,  who  had  completed  his  prepara- 
tion for  the  ministry,  under  Mr.  Payson's  instruction,  vis- 
ited the  place,  and,  during  his  first  week,  'found  ten  per- 
sons, who  entertained  a  hope,  and  heard  of  others,  and  in 
sixteen  families,  whom  he  had  visited,  more  or  less  were 
inquiring,  and  in  some  instances,  whole  families.  Relig- 
ion was  almost  exclusively  the  topic  of  conversation,  and 
the  whole  society  appeared  solemn.    The  subscription?^ 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


303 


io  a  fund  for  the  support  of  a  Calvinistic  minister  of  the 
gospel  had  amounted  to  three  or  four  thousand  dollars.' 
This  young  preacher  soon  became  the  established  minis- 
ter of  the  place,  where  he  still  remains  a  useful  laborer  in 
the  vineyard  of  Christ.  Such  were  the  results  of  one 
short  missionary  excursion. 

About  three  years  later,  by  particular  request,  he  spent 
a  week  in  anotlier  town,  where  some  religious  attention 
had  commenced.  It  was  a  season  of  great  solemnity. 
At  his  suggestion,  the  church  assembled  and  renewed 
their  covenant,  whose  bonds,  for  a  long  time,  had  been 
but  little  felt.  Their  pastor  led  the  way,  by  acknowledg- 
ing his  deficiencies,  and  then,  imploring  forgiveness,  and 
strength  for  time  to  come,  renewed  his  engagements  to 
the  Lord  and  to  his  people.  His  wife  followed  his  exam- 
ple, and  was  succeeded  by  the  members  of  the  church. 
During  this  visit,  Mr.  Payson  preached  thirteen  sermons, 
besides  attending  the  less  public  meetings,  and  conver- 
sing with  inquirers  and  the  impenitent ;  and  yet  he  was 
scarcely  sensible  of  fatigue,  till  he  left  the  spot.  He  "wa.s 
so  happy,  that  he  thought  he  might  have  exerted  himself, 
till  he  expired,  without  knowing,  that  he  needed  rest." 
Of  five  persons,  the  fruits  of  this  revival,  who  were  pro- 
pounded to  the  church  at  one  time,  four  were  above  sev- 
enty years  of  age. 

A  service,  not  very  dissimilar  in  kind,  he  once  per- 
formed, for  several  churches  in  his  own  neighborhood,  as 
one  of  a  Committee  of  the  Cumberland  Conference,  much 
to  their  acceptance,  and,  it  is  hoped,  to  their  spiritual 
advantage. 

During  his  public  life,  Mr.  Payson  made  several  jour- 
neys to  the  Springs,  at  Ballston  and  Saratoga,  for  the 
recovery  of  his  wasted  health.  The  mixed  characters, 
collected  together  at  this  place  of  fashionable  resort,  found 
him  the  judicious  and  earnest  advocate  of  his  Maxtor's 
cause.  Here  he  was  no  less  bent  on  the  ruling  purpose 
of  his  heart,  than  when  at  home,  among  his  own  favorite 
flock.  A  visiter  from  another  State,  who  took  lodgings 
in  the  same  house  with  him.self,  and  preserved  some  of 
his  remarks  and  topics  of  discourse,  testifies,  that  it  was 
Mr.  Payson's  usual  practice,  in  the  evening,  to  read  the 
scriptures  at  a  stated  hour,  and  ofier  prayer,  which  wai? 


304 


MEMOIR  OF 


attended  by  most  of  the  family  and  boarders ;  and  to  spend* 
a  half  hour  after  prayer  in  religious  conversation  with  all 
who  were  disposed  to  remain,  lie  always  found  many 
willing  to  hear,  and  the  number  continually  increased. 
He  observed  to  the  visiter  above  alluded  to,  that  the  time 
spent  at  the  Springs  would  not  appear  so  much  like  a 
blank,  if  he  should  be  permitted  to  do  any  thing  for  the 
cause  of  Christ.  This  privilege  was  granted  him,  for 
many  left  that  boarding  house  with  deep  religious  impres- 
sions, produced  through  his  instrumentality.  One  young 
man,  who  had  resolved  on  finding  new  lodgings,  because 
there  was  "so  much  praying"  where  he  was,  became  the 
subject  of  deep  conviction,  the  very  evening  he  expressed 
such  a  determination.  The  gentleman,  on  whose  author- 
ity these  facts  are  stated,  observes  of  his  prayers — "They 
contain  a  great  deal  of  instruction,  as  well  as  devotion. 
He  has  a  happy  faculty  of  making  his  prayers  ^rcacA." 
Yet  while  his  conversation  and  prayers  were  so  impres- 
sive, and  so  full  of  instruction  to  others,  he  mourns  over 
his  own  dulness,  as  though  "  the  waters  had  washed  eve- 
ry idea  out  of  his  head,  and  every  feeling  out  of  his  heart !" 

Tlie  events  alluded  to  in  the  foregoing  paragraph  trans- 
pired in  1815.  Of  the  impression  produced  by  a  subse- 
quent visit,  some  idea  may  be  formed  from  the  following 
letter,  addressed  to  the  compiler. 

"East-Windsor,  Conn.  Nov.  2,  1829. 

 "  On  his  way  to  Niagara,  Dr.  Payson  called  at  my 

house,  purposing  to  rest  awhile,  and  try  the  benefit  of  the 
waters.  I  had  heard  much  of  this  excellent  man  ;  but 
never  saw  him  till  this  time,  and  the  impression  he  made 
on  my  mind,  at  this  first  interview,  will  not  soon  be  for- 
gotten. I  was  struck  with  the  perfect  simplicity  and  great 
dignity  of  his  manners.  His  countenance  was  "  care- 
worn," and  he  had  the  appearance  of  one  sinking  under 
the  load  of  human  infirmities,  and  sighing  for  rest. 
#       *       *  * 

"  Speaking  of  his  trials  on  one  occasion,  he  observed  to 
me — '  I  have  needed  all  along  to  be  under  the  discipline 
of  heaven  ;  for  nothing  else  could  have  kept  me  humble, 
and  saved  me  from  perdition.  I  have  ever  been  prone  to 
depart  from  God,  and  have  been  kept  only  by  a  constant 


EDWARD  PATSON. 


305 


effort  of  his  love.  It  seems  to  me,  if  God  had  not  contin- 
ually held  the  rod  over  me,  and  hedged  up  my  way,  I 
should  have  escaped  from  his  hands,  and  been  forever 
separated  from  his  love.' — I  expected,  in  answer  to  my  in- 
quiries, to  hear  of  the  victories  of  his  faith  ;  but  he  spoke 
only  of  the  wonderful  power  of  God,  which  had  kept  him, 
and  of  his  love  to  one  so  unworthy  and  perverse.  He 
spoke  of  his  ''fierce  temptations,"  and  how  he  had  been 
delivered  by  the  mere  mercy  of  God  ;  and  wondered  that 
God  should  concern  himself  about  such  a  worm,  and  that 
he  did  not  leave  him  to  be  torn  and  devoured  by  Satan. 
In  all  my  conversations  with  this  wonderful  man,  I  never 
heard  him  utter  a  word,  that  bordered  on  boasting,  or  sa- 
vored of  pride  ;  but  he  seemed  to  have  a  surprising  sense 
of  his  own  un worthiness,  and  of  the  amazing  love  of  God 
in  making  himself  known  to  him,  and  giving  him  a  hope 
in  his  mercy. 

"  Among  the  virtues  of  our  friend's  character,  that  of 
humility  appeared  eminently  beautiful  and  lovely,  and 
shone  in  his  whole  deportment.  In  prayer,  his  soul  lay 
low  before  God.  He  frequently  took  part  in  family  de- 
votion ;  and  here  he  excelled  all  the  men  I  ever  heard. 
He  carried  us  up,  and  placed  us  all  in  the  divine  pres- 
ence ;  and  when  he  spread  forlh  his  hands  to  God,  hea- 
ven seemed  to  come  down  to  earth,  and  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  shone  around  our  tabernacle.  He  knew  our  wants, 
and  he  expressed  them  in  language  simple  and  affecting. 
He  knew  our  miseries — and  he  told  them  all  in  such  tones 
of  tenderness  and  sympathy,  as  made  us  feel  that  a  friend 
was  pleading  our  cause.  While  this  holy  man  has  talk- 
ed with  God,  and  seemed  to  be  overshadowed  with  the 
divine  glory,  I  have  sometimes  thought  I  could  imagine 
what  must  have  been  the  ecstacy  of  Peter,  v.  hen  surround- 
ed with  the  glories  of  the  transfiguration  scene.  At  these 
solemn  seasons,  when  our  Brother  has  been  pouring  out 
his  heart  in  deep  complaints  of  sin,  and  in  fervent  peti- 
tions for  mercy  ;  it  has  seemed  as  though  the  cloud  of  the 
divine  presence  covered  the  household,  and  the  divine 
majesty  was  very  near  us. 

"  The  only  exercise  Dr.  Payson  performed  in  public, 
while  with  us,  was  the  baptism  of  my  youngest  child. 
Some,  who  heard  his  baptismal  prayer,  observed'  after- 
26* 


306 


MEMOIR  OF 


wards,  that  the  subject  of  Infant  Baptism  had  never  been 
exhibited  to  them  in  so  convincing  and  solemn  a  light ; 
and  that  they  had  never  been  so  thoroughly  impressed 
with  the  obligations  of  religious  parents,  and  the  cov- 
enant rights  of  their  children. 

"  In  the  bosom  of  a  private  family,  Dr.  Payson  hoped 
to  escape  notice,  and  find  rest  from  the  vexations  of  com- 
pany. But  he  could  not  be  long  concealed ;  his  retreat 
was  soon  discovered,  and  visiters  thronged  to  see  him. 

"  Our  domestic  circle  was  often  enlivened  by  the  pres- 
ence and  the  conversation  of  Dr.  Payson.  The  children 
were  not  unnoticed  by  him  ;  but  shared  largely  in  his  at- 
tentions, and  he  seemed  to  take  delight  in  sharing  the 
toils  of  the  nursery.  Often  would  he  take  the  child  from 
the  arms  of  its  mother,  and  carry  it  for  hours  together, 
and  sing  some  little  air  to  divert  it. — His  conversations 
were,  for  the  most  part,  of  a  religious  cast.  He  seemed 
inclined  to  dwell  on  melancholy  subjects;  and  the  strains 
of  the  mourning  prophet  suited  him  best.  Yet  now  and 
then  would  he  dwell  on  the  sublime  and  animating  tiiemes 
of  religion ;  and  when  he  began  on  an  exalted  strain,  he 
was  surpassingly  eloquent  and  instructive.  He  would 
seize  hold  of  some  thought,  and  pursue  it  until  it  expand- 
ed and  glowed  under  the  splendor  of  his  imagery.  On 
one  occasion,  he  spoke  of  the  probable  condition  of  the 
soul  of  the  believer,  when  dying.  At  this  awful  period, 
when  gasping  in  the  agonies  of  death,  and  apparently  in- 
sensible to  every  thing  around  him, — he  supposed  the 
world  to  be  wholly  shut  out ;  and  in  this  condition,  while 
friends  stand  around,  and  tremble  to  think  of  the  un- 
known agonies,  he  may  be  enduring,  he  supposes  the 
light  of  God's  countenance  is  pouring  in  upon  the  soul, 
rendering  him  insensible  to  all  his  pains,  and  the  soul  is 
struggling  and  panting  to  escape  from  the  crumbling  ten- 
ement, and  be  at  rest  in  tiie  bosom  of  God. — I  can  only 
give  you  the  idea, — it  is  impossible  to  reach  his  descrip- 
tion. He  seemed  to  dwell  in  a  spiritual  world,  and  to  be 
most  conversant  with  spiritual  objects.  This  he  manifes-- 
ted  "  by  pureness,  by  knowledge,  by  love  unfeigned." 
He  talked  about  death,  as  we  would  talk  about  going  from 
one  place  to  another ;  and  if  any  might  adopt  the  lan- 
guage of  Watts,  much  more  might  he — 


EnWARD  PAYSON. 


307 


*'  Receive  my  clay,  thou  treasurer  of  death, 

I  will  no  more  demand  iny  tongue, 

Till  the  gross  organ,  well  refined, 

Shall  trace  the  boundless  flights  of  an  unfettered  mind, 

And  raise  an  equal  song." 

"  I  add  no  more  ;  only  that  the  visit  of  Dr.  Payson,  at 
my  house,  left  this  impression  upon  our  minds — not  to  be 
forgetful  to  entertain  strangers  ;  for  thereby  some  have 
entertained  angels  unawares." 

Respectfully  yours, 

SAMUEL  VV.  WHELPLEY. 

A  short  passage  from  a  letter  of  condolence,  addressed 
to  Mrs.  Payson  by  a  friend  in  Connecticut,  will  probably 
express  the  common  sentiment  of  the  many  thousands, 
who  have  listened  to  him,  whether  for  a  few  moments  on- 
ly, or  for  hours : 

"  I  remember,  with  most  deep  and  interesting  impres- 
sion, my  last  interview  with  your  beloved  and  ever-to-be- 
lamented  husband.  It  was  during  a  delightful  ride,  of 
five  or  six  miles,  on  the  borders  of  Farmington  river. 
Never  had  I  heard  such  discourse  from  the  lips  of  man. 
Never  had  such  an  interview  with  a  mortal.  Even  then 
he  seemed  like  a  pure  spirit  from  another  world.  Such 
words  of  wisdom  !  and  such  heavenly  affections  !  I  can- 
not efface  the  impression  from  my  mind." 

The  compiler  has  taken  much  pains  to  procure  from 
companions  of  his  journeys  some  of  the  striking  observa- 
tions, which  were  drawn  from  him  by  the  natural  scenery 
that  he  witnessed,  by  tiie  various  characters  with  whom 
he  met,  and  the  circumstances  in  which,  at  different  times, 
he  found  himself  But  his  attempts,  even  with  those, 
from  whom  he  had  the  greatest  reason  to  expect  full  and 
satisfactory  replies,  have  been  utterly  fruitless.  The  gen- 
eral impression  produced  by  his  occasional  conversation, 
has  been  very  strong  and  deep,  and  the  effect  powerful 
and  abiding ;  but  no  one  has  ventured  to  report  partic- 
ulars. The  words,  and  of  course  the  precise  sentiments, 
with  numerous  circum.stances  which  rendered  them  pecu- 
liarly seasonable,  "  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  sil- 


308 


MEMOIR  OF 


ver," — are  lost  beyond  recovery,  while  their  effect  re- 
mains. The  impulse  which  he  gave  to  other  minds,  still 
keeps  them  in  action,  and  is  still  transmitted  from  mind 
to  mind,  while  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  tell  how  this 
impulse  was  first  imparted.  The  pleasure,  and  the  bene- 
fit remain,  though  the  exciting  cause  has  disappeared.  So 
absorbed  have  persons  been  with  the  effect,  as  to  lose 
all  distinct  recollection  of  the  means  employed  in  produ- 
cing it. — This  corresponds  with  the  writer's  experience. 
At  the  first  visit,  which  he  ever  received  from  Dr.  Pay- 
son,  some  allusion  was  made  to  the  opinion,  which  pre- 
vails among  Christians  in  common  life,  that  ministers  are 
in  a  situation  peculiarly  favorable  to  religious  enjoyment, 
because  their  profession  leads  them  to  be  incessantly  con- 
versant with  divine  truth.  "This,"  said  Mr.  Payson,  "is 
just  as  if  a  hungry  man,  on  entering  the  kitchen  of  a  large 
victualling  house,  and  inhaling  the  savory  odor  of  the  va- 
rious dishes  of  rich  food,  hot  from  the  fire  and  the  oven, 
with  which  the  busy  laborers  were  loading  the  tables, 
should  exclaim — 'What  a  blessed  time  these  ruo/cs  have  !'  " 
During  the  interview,  he  uttered  enough  to  make  a  valu- 
able pamphlet ;  and  yet  this  one  comparison  is  all  that  can 
be  related  with  even  tolerable  justice  to  him. 

He  had  repeated  applications  from  the  Directors  of  the 
principal  Charitable  Societies  of  the  country  to  take  jour- 
neys, and  collect  funds  for  their  respective  operations. 
Of  the  fir.st  of  these  applications  he  says — "I  dislike  beg- 
ging, and,  therefore,  thought  I  must  go  ;  but  the  hopes  of 
a  revival  pulled  me  back."  He,  however,  soon  after 
"  made  a  beginning  by  visiting  a  few  towns,  the  result  of 
which  did  not  encourage  him  to  proceed.  He  vvas  brought 
into  circumstances,  which  rendered  it  necessary  to  preach 
ten  times  in  eight  days  :"  which,  added  to  the  fatigue  of 
riding  a  great  distance,  proved  too  much  for  his  strength, 
and  compelled  him  to  relinquish  the  undertaking. 

In  the  early  part  of  1819,  he  made  a  tour,  confined 
chiefly  to  Essex  County,  Mass.  in  behalf  of  the  American 
Education  Society.  His  success  in  collecting  money, 
though  as  great,  probably,  as  his  employers  had  any  rea- 
son to  anticipate,  did  not  equal  his  own  wishes.  It  was 
no  slight  trial, 'after  preaching  till  he  was  half  dead,  to 
find  only  a  few  dollars  contributed,  and  then  be  obliged 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


309 


to  retire,  and  lie  awake,  brooding  over  his  ill  success 
half  the  night.'  His  actual  receipts,  however,  constitu- 
ted but  a  small  part  of  the  advantage  which  the  So- 
ciety realized  as  the  consequence  of  his  excursion.  By 
such  an  advocate,  its  objects  and  its  claims  were  favor- 
ably made  known  to  the  community  ;  auxiliary  societies 
were  formed,  and  promises  obtained  from  individuals  of 
large  donations.  The  amount  of  good  which  he  accom- 
plished on  this  journey,  cannot  be  estimated  by  dollars 
and  cents.  To  obtain  money,  was,  with  him,  now  and 
at  all  times,  a  very  subordinate  object.  It  was  his  great 
desire  to  exert  an  influence  fnvorable  to  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  ministers  and  churches,  whom  he  visited. 
"  I  labored  as  directly,  as  I  dared,  to  persuade  all  the 
ministers  where  I  went  to  expect  a  revival  ;  and  talked 
to  them  in  my  way  about  Christ."  His  unusual  manner 
of  conversing  attracted  attention,  and  opened  to  his 
breihren  new  ways  of  awakening  interest  in  the  subject 
of  Christ,  and  his  salvation.  His  prayers  produced  the 
same  impression  which  they  always  had  on  strangers. 
An  aged  minister  noticed  the  same  quality  in  his  prayers, 
as  did  the  lay  visiter  at  the  Springs.  He  remarked,  af- 
ter hearing  thern,  that  prayer  might  be  made  as  instruc- 
tive as  preacliing  ;  and  wrote  to  a  son  in  the  ministry  to 
have  Mr.  Payson  preach  for  him,  by  all  means,  and  es- 
pecially to  praij. 

Mr.  Payson's  excursions,  from  time  to  time,  for  the  ben- 
efit of  his  health,  were  the  means  of  making  him  person- 
ally known  in  several  of  our  southern  cities,  as  well  as  in 
New  England  and  New  York  ;  and,  consequently,  of 
extending  that  pious  influence  which  he  ever  exerted,  to 
the  farthest  boundaries  of  our  land. 

There  is  nothing  more  true,  in  theory,  than  that  a  min- 
ister is  the  common  property  of  the  church  at  large,  rather 
than  of  any  particular  division  of  the  church  ;  and  that 
she  has  a  right  to  his  services  in  that  place,  which  will 
afford  the  widest  scope  for  the  effectual  and  useful  em- 
ployment of  his  peculiar  talents  ;ind  qualihcations.  But 
various  causes  render  the  principle  one  of  most  difl^icult 
application.  Some  unhappy  consequences,  perhaps,  never 
fail  to  follow  the  transfer  of  a  minister  from  one  church  to 
aaother  ;  and  no  slight  probability  of  increased  usefulness 


310 


MEMOIK  OF 


can  justify  such  removal.  In  order  that  such  a  change 
may  bring  any  gain  to  the  church  general,  a  minister  must 
do  much  more  good  in  his  new  situation,  than  he  did  in 
that  which  he  left  ;  for  it  will  require  much  to  balance  the 
certain  evils,  inseparable  from  his  removal.  When  a  pas- 
tor is  established  in  the  affections  and  confidence  of  his 
flock,  and  is  laboring  with  more  than  ordinary  zeal  and 
success,  any  interference  from  abroad,  must  be  regarded 
as  a  hazardous  e.xperiment.  There  may  be  much  of  self- 
ishness in  the  refusal  of  a  people  to  give  up  their  minister  ; 
but  certainly  not  more  than  there  is  in  those,  who  wish  to 
obtain  his  services  at  their  expense,  and  by  whose  solici- 
tations their  feelings  are  put  to  the  trial.  Else,  why  does 
the  choice  of  rich  churches  never  fall  upon  any  but  minis- 
ters of  established  popularity,  or  distinguished  for  their 
success  ;  while  many  others,  equal,  perhaps  superior  in 
moral  and  intellectual  worth,  are  placed  over  churches  by 
whom  their  merits  are  not  appreciated,  and  who  only  need 
a  change  of  situation  to  take  a  rank  among  the  most  use- 
ful of  Christ's  ministers  ?  The  "  call  "  of  a  church  to  the 
pastor  of  a  sister  church,  may  be  the  call  of  God  ;  and  it 
may  be  the  result  of  caprice,  of  partiality,  of  pride,  or  other 
selfish  passions.  Those  calls  are  most  entitled  to  consid- 
eration, which  these  feelings  have  the  least  concern  in 
producing.  The  guardians  of  our  public  seminaries  may 
be  supposed,  from  their  situation,  to  have  no  private  feel- 
ings or  partialities  to  gratify  by  their  appointments.  In 
ordinary  cases,  they  can  have  little  inducement  to  act  for 
any  other  than  the  genera!  good  ;  and  that  will  be  a  dark 
day  for  our  land,  when  these  institutions,  the  nurseries  of 
learning  and  religion,  whence  her  future  pillars  are  to  be 
obtained,  shall  be  denied  their  claim  to  the  most  valuable 
men  whom  the  church  can  furnish. 

Much  disquiet  is  often  produced  in  a  parish  by  the  re- 
ported intentions  and  informal  proposals  of  a  society 
abroad,  to  "  get  away  their  minister  ;"  even  when  this 
imprudent  agitation  of  the  subject  does  not  issue  in  a  form- 
al invitation.  The  second  church  in  Portland  had  much 
experience  of  this  species  of  trial.  When  Park-street 
Church,  in  Boston,  was  left  vacant  by  the  removal  of  Dr. 
Griffin,  Mr.  Payson's  charge  had  unpleasant  apprehensions 
of  losing  their  beloved  pastor.    It  is  in  allusion  lo  this 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


311 


time,  that  he  says  in  a  letter — "  We  have  been  kept  in  a 
fever  here,  all  this  winter,  by  perpetual  alarms  from  Bos- 
ton. Because  I  do  not  refuse  before  I  am  asked,  and  ex- 
claim loudly  against  going,  some  of  my  people  suspect  I 
wish  to  go.  ...  I  wish  "  Boston  folks"  would  be  content 
with  being  "  full  of  notions"  themselves,  and  not  fill  other 
people's  heads  with  them." — It  must  greatly  endear  his 
memory  to  his  surviving  flock,  to  learn  from  another  letter 
what  were  his  secret  feelings  in  relation  to  this  matter : — 
"  My  people — I  never  knew  before  how  much  they  loved 
me.  I  am  amazed  to  see  what  an  interest  God  has  given 
me  in  the  affections  of  his  people,  and  even  of  sinners.  It 
would  seem  like  tearing  off  limbs,  to  leave  them  Indeed 
I  see  not  how  it  is  possible,  humanly  speaking,  to  get 
away  from  them.  I  have  not  yet  been  put  to  the  trial. 
No  application  has  yet  been  made  from  B.,  though  much 
has  been  said  about  it.  It  is  very  doubtful  whether  any 
will  be  made.  I  feel  very  easy  about  it  myself,  but  the 
church  are  in  great  tribulation.  Ever  since  it  was  first 
talked  of,  I  have  taken  special  care  to  avoid  every  thing 
which  might  tend,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  to  bring  it 
about.    If  it  comes,  it  shall  be  none  of  my  seeking." 

Several  years  after  this  he  did,  with  the  full  consent  of 
his  people,  take  up  a  temporary  residence  in  Boston  ;  and 
during  the  few  weeks  which  he  spent  there  preached  to 
crowded  assemblies,  and  not  without  apparent  effect. 
Though  the  work,  which  his  friends  there  laid  out  for  him, 
was  too  much  for  his  strength,  he  was  wearied  with  soli- 
citations and  entreaties  to  visit  and  preach  in  the  neigh- 
boring towns  ;  so  anxious  were  those,  who  had  once  heard 
him  to  secure  for  their  friends  and  neighbors  a  participa- 
tion in  the  same  privilege  ;  and  so  confident  were  their 
hopes  that  he  would  be  the  instrument  of  awakening  a 
general  concern  for  the  soul,  wherever  he  should  address 
to  men  the  message,  with  which  he  was  entrusted. 

In  1825,  at  the  organization  of  the  new  church  in  Han- 
over-street, he  was  invited  to  take  the  pastoral  charge  of 
it.  He  referred  the  call  to  his  own  church,  who  decided, 
unanimously,  that  he  ought  not  to  accept  it — a  decision, 
to  which  he  cheerfully  acceded. 

In  January,  1826,  he  received  a  unanimous  call  from 
the  Ciuirch  in  Cedar-street,  New- York,  to  become  their 


31^ 


Memoir  ot 


pastor.  This  call  he  promptly,  fully,  and  unequivocaH^ 
declined.  The  motives,  by  which  he  was  actuated,  may 
be  seen  from  a  letter  to  his  mother,  written  a  few  days  at 
terwards.  All  classes  gave  him  full  credit  for  disinterest- 
edness in  his  conduct  on  this  occusion. 

"  Portland,  Jan.  25,  1826. 

"  My  dear  Mother, 

"  Before  you  receive  this,  you  will,  probably,  have  heard 
that  1  have  returned  a  negative  answer  to  the  invitation 
from  the  Cedar-street  Church.  After  refusing  to  accept 
the  call  from  Boston,  I  could  not  do  otherwise.  If  I  had 
gone  to  either  place,  I  must  have  gone  to  Boston  ;  for  I 
think  the  prospect  of  usefulness  there  is  greater,  all  things 
considered,  than  at  New-York.  Besides,  I  never  would 
consent  to  become  the  pastor  of  any  church,  whose  mem- 
bers had  not  heard  me  preach,  and  become  personally  ac- 
quainted with  me.  I  have  not  the  least  doubt,  that,  had  I 
complied  with  the  Cedar-street  invitation,  the  first  emotions 
of  the  church  and  society,  on  hearnig  nie,  would  have  been 
those  of  bitter  disappointment  and  regret.  It  is  ti  ue  that 
a  removal  to  New- York,  were4  fit  for  the  place,  would,  on 
many  accounts,  have  been  very  gratifying.  I  felt  no 
small  inclination  to  go.  I  should  like  exceedingly  to  be 
near  you  and  my  other  relations.  I  should  also  like  a 
milder  climate  tlian  this,  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  it 
would  be  beneficial  to  rny  health.  But  a  removal  would 
be  death  to  my  reputation  in  this  part  of  the  country  ;  I 
mean  my  Christian  reputation  ;  and  what  is  far  worse,  it 
would  bring  great  reproach  upon  religion.  At  present, 
my  worst  enemies,  and  the  worst  enemies  of  religion,  seem 
disposed  to  allow,  that  I  am  sincere,  upright,  and  unin- 
fluenced by  those  motives  which  govern  worldly  minded 
men.  But  had  I  gone  to  Boston,  and,  much  more  should 
I  now  go  to  New- York,  they  would,  at  once,  triumphantly 
exclaim,  "  Ah  !  they  are  all  alike ;  all  governed  by  world- 
ly motives  ;  they  preach  against  the  love  of  money,  and 
the  love  of  applause,  but  they  will  gratify  either  of  those 
passions,  when  a  fair  opportunity  offers."  Now  I  had 
much  rather  die,  than  give  them  an  occasion  thus  to  speak 
reproachfully.  It  would  be  overthrowing  all  which  I  have 
been  laboring  to  build  up.    Indeed  I  can  see  no  reason 


ElVU'ARn  PAY50N. 


313 


\vliy  God  should  suffer  these  repeated  invitations  to  be  sent 
to  me,  unless  it  be  to  give  me  an  opportunity  to  shew  the 
world  that  all  ministers  are  not  actuated  by  mercenary  or 
ambitious  views.  I  have  already  some  reason  to  believe  that 
my  refusal  to  accept  the  two  calls  has  done  more  to  con- 
vince the  enemies  of  religion,  that  there  is  a  reality  in  it, 
than  a  thousand  sermons  would  have  done.  However  this 
may  be,  I  have  done  what  I  thought  to  be  duty.  If  I  ever  felt 
desirous  to  know  the  will  of  God,  and  willing  to  obey  it,  it 
has  been  in  reference  to  these  two  cases.  Could  i  have 
had  reason  to  believe,  that  it  was  his  will,  I  would  very 
gladly  have  gone  either  to  Boston,  or  to  New-York.  But 
at  present,  I  believe  that  it  was  his  will,  that  I  should  re- 
main where  I  am.  Not  that  I  am  of  any  use  here  ;  but 
though  I  can  do  no  good,  1  would,  if  possible,  avoid  doing 
harm." 

But  little  more  than  a  month  elapsed  before  the  invita- 
tion of  the  Cedar-street  Church  was  repeated.  Some 
changes  in  his  circumstances  led  him  to  deliberate,  for  a 
time,  whether  this  second  invitation  might  not  be  the  call 
of  Providence.  He  considered  the  obstacles,  which  had 
opposed  his  removal,  as  diminished.  The  church  in 
llanover-street, — supposing,  that  he  might  possibly  be  de- 
terred from  complying  with  this  invitation,  by  the  fact  that 
he  had  so  recently  declined  a  call  from  them, — passed  a 
resolve  with  a  view  to  remove  any  difficulties  which  that 
circumstance  might  have  thrown  in  his  way  ;  and  wrote 
a  letter,  urging  him  to  act  just  as  he  should,  if  he  had  never 
received  an  invitation  from  them.  This  amounted  very 
nearly  to  the  expression  of  an  opinion,  that  it  was  his  duty 
to  go.  He  was  evidently  much  perplexed.  On  the  one 
hand,  he  feared  "  doing  wrong,  and  offending  God,  by  run- 
ning before  he  was  sent."  On  the  other  hand,  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  his  reception  of  the  call,  '  induced 
him  to  believe  that  it  might,  possibly,  be  the  call  of  God  ; 
and  he  could  not  again  decline  it,  until  he  had  taken  time 
for  prayer  and  deliberation.'  "  1  have  ample  reason,"  he 
writes  to  the  commissioners  who  tendered  the  invitation, 
*'  to  believe  that  God  placed  me  in  my  present  situation  ; 
and  I  must,  therefore,  be  convinced  that  he  calls  me  away, 
before  I  can  consent  to  leave  it.  That  he  does  call  me 
27 


314 


MEMOIR  OF 


away,  I  am  not  yet  convinced  ;  though  I  admit  it  to  be 
possible." 

After  having  been  long  agitated  by  the  perplexing  ques- 
tion, it  was,  at  length,  referred  to  a  Council,  mutually 
chosen  by  himself  and  his  church.  To  the  Council  it 
proved  almost  as  tedious  and  trying  as  it  had  to  him.  They 
were  reluctant  to  decide  against  his  removal,  thinking  it 
possible,  that  a  change  of  climate  and  situation,  together 
with  the  diminished  necessity  of  study,  might  recruit  the 
wasted  energies  of  his  body,  and  prolong  for  the  benefit 
of  the  church  his  most  valuable  and  useful  life.  On  the 
other  hand,  they  found  difficulties  in  the  way  of  recom- 
mending his  removal,  which  they  were  not  able  to  sur- 
mount, the  principal  of  which  was  his  want  of  a  full  and 
decided  conviction  of  personal  duty  in  the  case.  They 
could,  therefore,  only  advise,  that,  if  such  should  be  his 
conviction,  and  he  should  make  it  known  to  his  churcli, 
they  would  consent  to  part  with  him. 

To  this  state  his  mind  had  nearly  approached,  when  its 
progress  towards  conviction  was  arrested,  and  its  purpose 
changed  by  increased  illness.  Symptoms  of  pulmonary 
affection,  added  to  his  other  maladies,  excited  apprehen- 
sions, that  his  labors  on  earth  were  nearly  terminated — 
apprehensions,  which,  alas !  proved  to  be  but  too  well 
founded.  In  May  following,  by  the  advice  of  friends  and 
physicians,  he  tried  very  thoroughly  the  experiment  of 
riding  on  horseback,  by  making  a  journey  through  the 
interior  of  Maine,  New-Hampshire,  Massachusetts^  and 
Connecticut,  to  New- York  city,  and  thence  to  the  Springs^ 
where  his  mind  was  disturbed  by  a  third  application  to 
take  the  charge  of  Cedar-street  Church,  accompanied  with 
most  pressing  letters  and  messages  from  clergymen  and 
others.  Though  this  was  declined  without  much  hesita- 
tion, yet  in  the  excitable  state  of  his  nerves,  and  his  uni- 
versal weakness  of  body,  it  was  injurious  to  his  welfare, 
and,  combined  with  other  causes,  prevented  his  deriving 
any  benefit  from  his  journey  and  an  absence  of  two  months. 

'*  The  peculiar  trials  of  mind,"  writes  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Whelpley,  with  whom  he  took  lodgings, — "  the  peculiar 
trials  of  mind  he  had  passed  through,  in  consequence  of 
the  invitations,  he  received  to  New- York  and  Boston,  well 


EOVVAUl)  PAYSON. 


iiigh  broke  him  down,  as  he  expressed  it, — and  greatly 
aggravated  his  complaints  and  sufferings  ;  and  he  had 
hoped  to  experience  no  more  trouble  from  this  quarter. 
But  no  sooner  was  it  known,  in  New- York,  that  he  was  at 
the  Springs,  than  fresh  overtures  were  sent  to  him. — 'I 
wonder,'  said  he,  '  that  this  people  will  thus  pursue  a  dy- 
ing man.  1  cannot  help  them  or  myself.' — I  have  no 
doubt,  from  various  expressions  of  his,  that  the  great  efforts 
made  to  etfect  his  translation  to  a  new  field  of  labor,  prov- 
ed too  much  for  his  weak  frame,  and  hastened  his  disso- 
lution." 

But  those,  vho  were  so  perseveringly  solicitous  to  se. 
cure  his  services,  knew  not  how  delicate  and  susceptible 
were  his  feelings ;  nor  did  they  know  how  nearly  exhaust- 
ed in  him  were  the  springs  of  life.  No  harsh  censure  of 
their  measures  is  intended  to  be  insinuated.  Doubtless 
their  wishes  had  so  far  affected  their  judgment,  as  to  cre- 
ate the  confident  expectation,  that  a  removal  to  a  new 
field  of  action,  would  be  the  means  of  restoring  and  es- 
tablishing his  health.  But  it  was  already  gone  past  re- 
covery. 

That  he  was  held  in  as  high  estimation  by  the  great 
and  good,  as  by  Christians  in  the  ordinary  walks  of  life,  is 
obvious  from  the  fact,  that  he  was,  in  1821,  requested  by 
persons  having  some  control  in  the  appointment,  to  say 
whether  he  would  accept  a  Professorship  in  the  Theologi- 
cal Seminary  at  Andover,  if  elected  to  the  office.  But  he 
refused  "  at  once,  and  positively,  on  the  score  of  not  pos- 
sessing the  requisite  qualifications.  Had  I  been  suitably 
qualified,  I  am  not  certain,  that  I  shpuld  not  have  thought 
it  my  duty  to  go." 


316 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Letters  to  persons  in  variants  circumstances  and  states  of 
mind. 

Though  Mr.  Payson  was  eminently  felicitous  in  adapt- 
ing his  public  discourses  to  the  wants  and  characters  of  a 
promiscuous  assembly  ;  he  was,  if  possible,  still  more  so, 
in  suiting  his  counsels,  instructions,  and  appeals,  to  the 
cases  of  individuals.  But  these  dictates  of  his  sanctified 
understanding  and  ardently  affectionate  heart,  are  mostly 
lost  ;  and  their  place  can  be  supplied  only  by  a  selection 
from  his  letters,  written  to  persons  variously  situated  and 
affected, — which,  though  both  interesting  and  instructive, 
are  far  inferior  in  imagery,  appositeness,  and  effect,  to  his 
viva  voce  instructions. 

To  his  Mother  under  affliction  of  spirit  : 

"  My  dearest  Mother, 

"Never  did  I  more  ardently  wish  to  impart  consolation, 
and  never  did  I  feel  so  utterly  powerless  to  do  it.  You 
say  yourself,  that  neither  reason  nor  religion  can  restrain 
your  tormenting  imagination.  What  encouragement  then 
have  I  to  attempt  to  comfort  you  under  the  evils  it  occa- 
sions ?  I  wish  I  could  communicate  to  you  the  feelings 
which  have  rendered  me  happy,  for  some  weeks  past.  I 
will  mention  the  texts,  which  occasioned  them  ;  texts,  on 
which  I  have  preached  lately.  Perhaps  the  great  Com- 
forter may  apply  them  to  you.  If  so,  you  will  little  need 
any  consolation  which  I  can  give.  The  first  is  Isaiah  26, 
20.  The  time  of  our  continuance  on  earth  is  but  a  mo- 
ment ;  nay,  it  is  but  a  little  moment.  Suppose,  then,  the 
worst.  Suppose  that  all  the  evils,  which  imagination  can 
paint,  should  come  upon  you.  They  will  endure  only  for 
a  little  moment  ;  and  while  this  little  moment  is  passing 
away,  you  may  run  and  hide  in  the  chambers  of  protection, 
which  God  has  provided  for  his  people,  till  the  mansions 
preparing  for  them  above  are  ready  for  their  reception 


EDWAUl)  PAT  SON. 


317 


O,  then,  my  dear  Mother,  glory  in  these  afflictions,  which 
endure  but  for  a  moment,  a  little  moment.  O,  how  near, 
how  very  near,  is  eternity.    It  is  even  at  the  door. 

"  New  Year's  Sabbath,  I  preached  on  this  text,  "  As  the 
Lord  liveth,  there  is  but  a  step  between  me  and  death." 
One  inference  was,  there  is  but  a  step  between  Christians 
and  heaven.  So  it  has  seemed  to  me  almost  ever  since. 
Another  text,  which  I  have  preached  on  lately,  and  which 
has  been  much  blessed  to  me,  is  Rev.  21 ,  23.  "  And  the 
city  had  no  need  of  the  sun,"  &c.  O,  how  unutterably 
glorious  did  heaven  appear  !  It  is  ghry :  It  is  a  iveight 
of  glory  :  An  exceeding  weigJtt  of  glory  ;  a  Jar  more  ex- 
ceeding weight  of  glory  ;  a  Jar  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory.  O,  how  shall  we  bear  such  a  weight  of 
glory  as  this  ?  How  shall  we  wait  with  patience  till  we 
arrive  at  it  1  O,  it  seems  too  much  ;  too  boundless,  too 
overwhelming  to  think  of  Come  afflictions  ;  come 
troubles  ;  come  trials,  temptations,  distresses  of  every  kind 
and  degree  ;  make  our  path  through  life  as  painful,  as 
wearisome,  as  you  can  ;  still,  if  heaven  is  at  the  end  of  it, 
we  will  smile  at  all  you  can  do.  My  dear  Mother,  break 
away  ;  O,  that  God  would  enable  you  to  break  away  from 
all  your  cares  and  sorrows,  and  fly,  rise,  soar,  up  to  the 
New  Jerusalem.  See  its  diamond  walls,  its  golden  streets, 
its  pearly  gates,  its  shining  inhabitants,  all  in  a  blaze  with 
reflected  light  and  glory,  the  light  of  God,  the  glory  of  the 
Lamb  !  Say  with  David,  toward  this  city  I  will  go  in  the 
strength  of  the  Lord  God  ;  I  will  make  mention  of  thy 
righteousness,  even  of  thine  only.  My  Mother,  what  a 
righteousness  is  this  ?  The  righteousness  of  God  !  A 
righteousness  as  much  better  than  that  of  Adam  ,  nay, 
than  that  of  angels  as  God  is  better  than  his  creatures. 
Since  then,  my  dear  Mother,  you  have  such  a  heaven  be- 
fore you  ;  such  a  righteousness  to  entitle  you  to  heaven  ; 
and  such  blessed  chambers  to  hide  in,  during  the  little 
moment  which  separates  you  from  heaven, — dry  up  your 
tears,  banish  your  anxieties,  leave  sorrow  and  sighing  to 
those,  who  have  no  such  blessings,  in  store,  or  reversion, 
and  sing,  sing,  as  Noah  sat  secure  in  the  ark  and  sang 
'  the  grace  that  steered  him  through.' 

*       *       *  * 

"  I  would  urge  Father  to  be  more  careful  of  himself,  if 
27* 


318 


MEMOIR 


I  thought  it  would  do  any  good,  but  it  will  not.  The 
nearer  he  gets  to  his  sun,  his  centre,  the  end  of  his  course,, 
the  faster  he  will  fly  and  you  cannot  stop  him.  Catch 
hold  of  him,  and  fly  with  him,  and  I  will  come  panting  af- 
ter as  fast  as  I  can." 

To  a  kinsman,  in  aa  important  crisis  of  his  religious 
experience  : 

 "  In  your  present  situation,  and  for  some  time  to- 
come,  your  greatest  difficulty  will  be,  to  maintain  the  dai- 
ly performance  of  closet  duties.  On  your  maintaining 
that  part,  the  fate  of  the  whole  battle  will  turn.  This 
your  great  adversary  well  knows.  He  knows  that  if  he 
can  beat  you  out  of  the  closet,  he  shall  have  you  in  his 
own  power.  You  will  be  in  the  situation  of  an  army  cut  off 
from  supplies  and  reinforcements,  and  will  be  obliged  ei- 
ther to  capitulate,  or  to  surrender  at  discretion.  He  will, 
therefore,  leave  no  means  untried  to  drive  or  draw  you 
from  the  closet.  And  it  will  be  hard  work  to  maintain 
that  post  against  him  and  your  own  heart.  Sometimes 
he  will,  probably,  assail  you  with  more  violence,  when 
you  attempt  to  read  or  pray,  than  at  any  other  time  ;  and 
thus  try  to  persuade  you  that  prayer  is  rather  injurious 
than  beneficial.  At  other  times  he  will  withdraw  and  lie 
quiet,  lest,  if  he  should  distress  you  with  his  temptation, 
you  might  be  driven  to  the  throne  of  grace  for  help.  If 
he  can  prevail  upon  us  to  be  careless  and  stupid,  he  will 
rarely  distress  us.  He  will  not  disturb  a  false  peace,  be^ 
cause  it  is  a  peace  of  which  he  is  the  author.  But  if  he. 
cannot  succeed  in  lulling  us  asleep,  he  will  do  all  in  his 
power  to  distress  us.  And  when  he  is  permitted  to  do 
this,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  withdraws  his  sensible  aid  and 
consolations ;  when,  though  we  cry  and  shout,  God  seems 
to  shut  out  our  prayers,  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  be  con- 
stant in  secret  duties.  Lideed,  it  is  always  most  difficult 
to  attend  to  them  when  they  are  most  necessary.  But 
never  mind.  Your  Lord  and  Master  is  looking  on.  He 
notices,  he  accepts,  and  he  will  reward  every  struggle- 
Besides,  in  the  Christian  warfare,  to  maintain  the  con- 
flict, is  to  gain  the  victory.  The  promise  is  made  to  him 
that  endures  to  the  end.    The  object  of  our  spiritual  ad- 


KDWAKI)  I'AYSON. 


versaries,  then,  is  to  prevent  us  from  enduring  to  the  end. 
If  they  fail  of  effecting  this  object,  they  are  defeated. 
Every  day,  in  which  you  are  preserved  from  going  back, 
they  sustain  a  defeat.  And  if  by  praying,  yesterday,  yoa 
gained  strength  enough  to  pray,  to-day  ;  and  if  by  praying 
to-day,  you  gain  strength  enough  to  pray  again,  tomorrow, 
you  have  cause  for  thankfulness.  If  the  food  which  you 
take  every  day  nourishes  you  for  one  day,  you  are  satisfi- 
ed. You  do  not  expect  that  the  food  you  ate,  yesterday, 
will  nourish  you  to-day.  Do  not  complain,  then,  if  you 
find  it  necessary  to  ask  every  day  for  fresh  supplies  of 
spiritual  nourishment ;  and  do  not  think  your  prayers  are 
unanswered  so  Long  as  you  are  enabled  to  struggle  on, 
even  though  it  should  be  with  paui  and  difficulty.  Eve- 
ry day  I  see  more  clearly  how  great  a  mercy  it  is,  to  be 
kept  from  open  sin  and  from  complete  apostacy.  If  you 
are  thus  kept  be  thankful  for  it." 

To  a  distant  lady,  in  whose  piety  he  had  full  confidence, 
but  who  was  much  discouraged  respecting  herself 

**  My  dear  Mrs.  , 

"  What  a  task  you  have  imposed  on  me  !  You  require 
me  to  write  you  a  letter,  which  shall  make  you  feel.  And 
yet  you  tell  me  that  the  Bible,  the  letter  which  God  him- 
self has  sent  to  you  from  heaven,  does  not  make  you  feel. 
If  I  believed  this  to  be  the  case,  could  I  write  with  any 
hope  of  success  !  could  I  hope  to  affect  a  heart,  which  a 
message  from  heaven  does  not  affect !  But  I  do  not,  can- 
not believe  that  this  message  has  failed  to  affect  you. 
Your  letter  to  Mrs.  P.  contains  proof  that  it  has  not. 
In  that  letter  you  say,  "  I  hate  myself  while  I  write."  But 
hatred  of  one's  self,  or  self  abhorrence,  is  one  of  the  con- 
stituent parts  of  true  repentance.  No  one,  but  the  real  pen- 
itent, no  one,  who  is  not  a  Christian,  hates  himself  He, 
who  abhors  himself,  sees  and  feels  it  to  be  right,  that  God 
should  abhor  him.  He  can,  accordingly,  take  part  with 
God  against  himself,  justify  God,  while  he  reproaches 
and  condemns  himself.  And  he,  who  can  do  this,  is  pre- 
pared to  embrace  the  gospel,  to  receive  it,  as  glad  tiding* 
of  great  joy.  Are  you  not  then,  my  dear  madam,  proved 
*0  be  a  Christian,  out  of  your  own  mouth?  If  you  do  not 


320 


AIEMOIK  OF 


choose  to  yield  to  proof,  from  that  source,  let  me  request 
you  to  come  with  me  to  the  mount  of  transfiguration. 
We  may,  like  the  disciples,  feel  emotions  of  fear,  as  we 
enter  the  bright  cloud,  whi  h  overshadows  it ;  but  we 
have  no  reason  to  entertain  such  emotions.  Now  contem- 
plate him  who  stood  on  the  summit,  in  the  midst  of  this 
bright  cloud.  See  his  countenance  shinjng  like  the  sun, 
and  his  raiment  white  as  the  light.  See  all  the  fulness  of 
the  Godhead  dwelling  in  him,  diffusing  itself  around. 
Hear  the  awful  voice  of  the  Eternal  Father,  proclaiming, 
this  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  1  am  well  pleased;  hear 
ye  him.  Recollect  all  that  you  have  heard  and  read  of 
the  Being  before  you.  Think  of  his  power  to  save,  of  his 
willingness  to  save,  of  his  delight  in  saving  sinners.  And, 
now,  what  does  your  heart  say  to  all  tliis  ?  What  reply 
does  it  make,  when  the  Saviour,  turning  upon  you  a  look 
full  of  invitation,  benevolence,  and  compassion,  says  to 
you,  Fear  not  Mary,  to  approach  me  ;  1  am  come  to  seek, 
and  to  save  that  which  was  lost :  shall  I  save  thee  ?  Wilt 
thou  consent  to  have  me  for  thy  Saviour,  upon  my  own 
terms  ?  Wilt  thou  believe  that  1  am  disposed  to  look  with 
an  eye  of  pity  on  thy  struggles  against  sin,  and  to  assist 
thee  in  overcoming  it?  Wilt  thou  believe  that  I  can  bear 
with  thee,  forgive  thee,  have  patience  with  thee,  and  nev- 
er be  weary  of  instructing  thee,  reclaiming  thee,  and  lead- 
ing thee  forward  in  the  way  to  heaven  ?  And  now,  my 
dear  madam,  let  me  ask,  once  more,  what  reply  does  your 
heart  make  to  this  language  ?  does  it  not  say,  with  Pe- 
ter, "  Lord,  it  is  good  to  be  here  V  it  is  good  to  sit  nt  thy 
feet,  and  hear  thy  word,  I  believe,  I  am  sure,  that  thou 
art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God.  If  this  is  the 
language  of  your  heart,  he  does,  in  eifect,  say  to  you, 
"  Blessed  art  thou,  Mary-Ann  ;  for  flesh  and  blood  have 
not  revealed  this  unto  thee,  but  my  Father  who  is  in  hea- 
ven "  Blessed  art  thou,  for  thou  hast  chosen  the  good 
part,  and  it  shall  never  be  taken  from  thee.  But  perhaps 
you  will  say, — for  y"U  have  to  dispute  against  yourself, — 
"  I  believe  nothing,  feel  nothing  of  all  this."  Let  me, 
then,  make  another  trial.  St.  Paul,  speaking  of  ancient 
believers,  says,  if  they  had  been  mindful  of  the  country 
whence  they  came  out,  they  might  have  had  opportunity 
to  leiurn  thither  ;  but  they  desired  another  country,  even 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


321 


an  heavenly  ;  wherefore,  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called 
their  God.  Now  permit  me  to  apply  this  passage  to  your 
case.  If  you  are  mindful  of  the  world,  if  you  wish  to  re- 
turn to  that  careless,  sinful  state  of  conformity  to  it,  from 
which  you  are  professedly  come  out,  you  have  opportuni- 
ty to  return  to  it ;  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  you.  But  can 
you  say,  that  you  wish  to  return  ?  Can  you  deny  that  you 
desire  a  better  country,  even  a  heavenly  ?  If  you  do  desire 
it,  if  you  have  no  wish  to  return  to  the  service  of  sin,  then 
God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  your  God  ;  and  if  he  is  not 
ashamed  to  be  called  your  God,  then  you  ought  not  to  be 
afraid  to  call  him  so ;  but  ought  to  approach  him  with 
confidence  crying,  "  my  Father  !  my  God  !" 

The  following  letter  of  condolence  to  his  bereaved 
parents  contains  some  reminiscences  of  a  most  valuable 
woman,  which  ought  to  be  preserved,  and  which  will  be 
gladly  recognized  by  great  numbers,  to  whom  she  was  en- 
deared by  "  the  good  works  and  alms-deeds  which  she 
did." 

"  May  4,  1818. 

"  Mr  DEAR  AFFLICTED  PARENTS, 

"  You  will  probably  hear  from  poor  brother  Rand,  be- 
fore you  receive  this  letter,  that  you  have  one  child  less  on 
earth,  to  comfort  you  in  the  decline  of  life  ;  that  dear,  dear 
Grata  has  gone  before  you  to  heaven.  I  cannot  hope  to  con- 
sole you;  but  I  do  hope  that  your  surviving  children  will  feel 
bound  to  do  every  tiling  in  their  power  to  make  up  your  loss 
by  increased  filial  affection,  and  concern  for  your  happiness. 
I  cannot  mourn  for  Grata.  How  much  suffering  of  body  and 
mind  has  she  escaped  by  her  early  departure.  But  I  mourn 
for  poor  brother  Rand,  for  his  motherless  children,  and  for 
you.  It  would  be  some  consolation  to  you,  could  you  know 
h'W  much  she  was  beloved, how  greatly  her  loss  is  lamented, 
how  much  good  she  did,  and  how  loudly  she  is  praised  by 
all  who  knew  her.  I  doubt  not  that  hundreds  mourn  for 
her,  and  feel  her  loss,  almost  or  quite  as  much,  as  do  her 
relatives.  Mr.  H.,  who  preached  her  funeral  sermon,  gave 
her  a  most  exalted  character,  and  a  young  lady,  who  resid- 
ed a  few  weeks  in  Mr.  Rand's  family,  speaks  of  her,  every 


MKarolu  OF 


where,  as  the  most  faultless  person  with  whom  she  was 
ever  acquainted. 

"  Many,  many  prayers  have  been  offered  up,  both  here 
and  at  Gorham,  that  you  may  be  supported  and  comfort- 
ed, when  the  tidings  reach  you  ;  and  I  hope  and  trust 
they  will  be  answered  Thanks  be  to  God,  that  you  are 
loved  and  blessed  by  many  who  never  saw  you,  on  account 
of  your  children.  Mr.  Rand  feels  great  hopes  that  her 
loss  will  be  blessed  to  his  church  and  people;  and  that 
she  will  do  more  go 'd  in  her  death,  than  she  has  done  in 
her  life  ;  and  from  what  I  saw  at  the  funeral,  I  cannot  but 
indulge  similar  hopes.  You  will  wish  to  know  how  he 
bears  the  lo>s  ;  but  1  can  hardly  tell.  When  I  saw  him, 
he  had  been  in  a  state  of  confusion,  and  surrounded  by  his 
mourning  people,  from  the  moment  of  her  death  ;  so 
that,  as  he  more  than  once  observed,  he  could  scarcely 
realize  that  she  was  dead,  or  tell  how  he  felt.  The  worst 
is  yet  to  come  ;  but  I  doubt  not  he  will  be  supported.  I 
hope  too  that  her  loss  will  do  me  some  good  The  sud- 
denness of  her  departure  makes  the  other  world  appear 
very  near  ;  and  she  seems  as  much,  and  even  more  alive, 
than  she  did  before.  I  preached  with  reference  to  the 
subject,  yesterday  ;  and  could  not  but  liope  that  her  death 
might  be  blessed  to  some  of  my  people,  or,  at  least,  to 
some  of  the  church." 

A  letter  of  counsel  to  a  candidate  for  the  ministry. 

"  My  dear  Brother, 

"  I  rejoice  to  learn  that  you  are,  in  part,  released  from 
the  bondage  in  which  you  have  been  so  long  held.  That 
you  arc  released,  I  infer,  first,  from  the  fact  that  you  are 
preaching ;  and,  secondly,  from  your  having  written  me 
a  letter — But  what  a  request  does  your  letter  contain  ! — 
That  I  should  write  to  you  sy^ttmalically !  I,  who  never 
did  any  tlung  sy.steinatically,  in  my  life,  but  have  always 
lived  extempore !  If  I  write  to  you,  it  must  be  in  the 
same  way. — It  will  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  te 
give  you  plenty  of  good  advice.  All  the  difficulty  will 
be,  to  make  you  follow  it.  If  you  are  like  me,  you  will 
never  learn  any  thing  to  any  purpose,  till  it  is  beaten  into 
you  by  painful  experience  ;  and  even  then,  you  will  prob- 


EOWAnO  PAVSON. 


323 


ably  fbi  Jet  it  in  a  tenth  part  of  the  time,  which  it  took 
you  to  learn  it.  However,  I  will  tell  you  one  thing,  which 
experience  has  taught  me.  If  you  will  believe  it,  on  my 
word,  it  will  save  you  some  suffering.  ,  If  not,  you  must 
learn  it,  as  I  did,  under  the  scourge. 

"Sometime  since,  I  took  up  a  little  work,  purporting 
to  be  the  lives  of  sundry  characters,  as  related  by  them- 
selves. Two  of  those  characters  agreed  in  remarking, 
that  they  were  never  happy,  until  they  ceased  striving  to 
be  great  men.  This  remark  struck  me,  as  you  know  the 
most  simple  remarks  will  strike  us,  when  heaven  pleases. 
It  occurred  to  me  at  once,  that  most  of  my  sins  and  suf- 
ferings were  occasioned  by  an  unwillingness  to  be  the 
nothing,  which  I  am,  and  by  consequent  struggles  to  be 
.something.  I  saw  that  if  I  would  but  cease  struggling,  and 
consent  to  be  any  thing,  or  nothing,  just  as  God  pleases, 
I  might  be  happy.  You  will  think  it  strange,  that  I  men- 
tion this,  as  a  new  discovery.  In  one  sense,  it  was  not 
new  ;  I  had  known  it  for  years.  But  I  now  saw  it  in  a 
new  light.  My  heart  saw  it,  and  consented  to  it;  and  I 
am  comparatively  happy.  My  dear  Brother,  if  you  can 
give  up  all  dc-sire  to  be  great,  and  feel  heartily  willing  to 
be  nothing,  you  will  be  happy  too.  You  must  not  even 
wish  to  be  a  great  Christian  ;  that  is,  you  must  not  wish 
to  make  great  attainments  in  religion,  for  the  sake  of 
knowing  tiiat  you  have  made,  or  for  the  sake  of  having 
others  think  that  you  have  made  them.  Very  true,  and 
very  good,  you  will  say,  though  .somewhat  trite  ;  but  how 
am  I  to  bring  myt-elf  to  such  a  state  ?  Let  me  ask,  in  re- 
ply, why  you  are  not  troubled,  when  you  see  one  man  re- 
ceive military,  and  another  masonic  honors?  Why  are 
you  not  unhappy,  because  you  cannot  be  a  colonel,  a  gen- 
eral, or  a  most  worshipful  grand  high  priest.  Because, 
you  answer,  I  have  no  desire  for  these  titles,  or  distinc- 
tions. And  why  do  you  not  desire  them  ?  Simply  be- 
cause you  are  not  running  a  race  in  competition  with 
those  who  obtain  them.  You  stand  aside,  and  say,  let 
those  who  wish  for  these  things,  have  them.  Now  if  you 
can,  in  a  similar  manner,  give  up  all  competition  with 
respect  to  other  objects  ;  if  you  can  stand  aside  from  the 
race  which  too  many  ministers  are  running,  and  say, 
from  your  heart,  "let  those,  who  choose  to  engage  in  such 


324 


MEMOIR  OF 


a  race,  divide  the  prize  ;  let  one  minister  run  away  witli 
the  money,  and  another  with  the  esteem,  and  a  third 
with  the  applause,  &-c.  &c. ;  I  have  something  else  to 
do ;  a  different  race  to  run  ;  be  God's  approbation  the 
only  prize  for  which  I  run ;  let  me  obtain  that,  and  it 
is  enough  ;"— I  say,  if  you  can,  from  the  heart,  adopt 
this  language,  you  will  find  most  of  your  difHculties  and 
sufferings  vanish.  But  it  is  hard  to  say  this.  It  is  al- 
most impossible  to  persuade  any  man  to  renounce  the 
race,  without  cutting  off  his  feet,  or  at  least,  fettering 
him.  This  God  has  done  for  me  ;  this  he  has  been  do- 
ing for  you.  And  you  will,  one  day,  if  you  do  not  now, 
bless  him  for  all  your  sufferings,  as  I  do  for  mine.  1 
have  not  suffered  one  pang  too  much.  God  was  never 
more  kind,  than  when  I  thought  him  most  unkind  ;  never 
more  faithful,  than  when  I  was  ready  to  say,  his  faithful- 
ness has  failed.  Let  him  fetter  you,  then,  if  he  pleases 
Consent  that  he  should  cut  off  your  feet,  if  he  pleases 
Any  thing  is  a  blessing  which  prevents  us  from  running 
the  fatal  race,  which  we  are  so  prone  to  run  ;  which  first 
convinces  us  that  we  are  nothing,  and  then  makes  us 
willing  to  be  so." 

To  an  aged  mother  suffeiing  great  anxiety,  on  account 
of  the  disheartened,  and  comfortless  condition  of  her  son. 


"  You  give  yourself  too  much  trouble  about  P.  After 
you  have  prayed  for  him,  as  you  have  done,  and  commit- 
ted him  to  God,  should  you  not  cease  to  feel  anxious  re- 
specting him  ?  The  command,  "  Be  careful  for  nothing," 
is  unlimited  ;  and  so  is  tlie  expression,  *'  casting  all  your 
care  upon  him."  If  we  cast  our  burdens  upon  another, 
can  they  continue  to  press  upon  us  ?  If  we  bring  them 
away  with  us  from  the  throne  of  grace,  it  is  evident  we  do 
not  leave  them  there.  With  respect  to  myself,  I  have  made 
this  one  test  of  my  prayers.  If,  after  committing  any 
tiling  to  God,  I  can,  like  Hannah,  come  away,  and  have 
my  countenance  no  more  sad,  my  heart  no  more  pained  or 
anxious,  I  look  upon  it  as  one  proof  that  I  prayed  in  faith; 
but  if  I  bring  away  iny  burden,  I  conclude  that  faith  was 
not  in  exercise.  If  God  has  any  work  for  P.  to  do,  he  will 
cause  him  to  do  it.    He  made  him,  as  he  made  every  thing 


KDWARB  PAYSON. 


325 


else,  tor  his  own  glory,  and  he  will  cause  his  glory  to  be 
promoted  by  him.  Of  course,  I  should  not  urge  this  as  a 
reason  for  neglecting  to  counsel  or  pray  for  him ;  but  as 
a  reason  why,  when  we  have  performed  these  duties,  we 
should  be  free  from  all  care  and  anxiety  respecting  the 
event. — The  case  of  i'owper,  which  you  feared  would  do 
nie  hurt,  did  me  much  good.  It  led  to  such  reflections  as 
these  :  If  God  could,  without  injury  to  himself,  or  his 
cause,  suffer  such  a  mind  as  that  of  Cowper  to  rust  in  in- 
action,to  be  fettered  by  nervous  difficulties  and  temptations, 
or  to  be  uselessly  employed  for  ten  years  together  in  transla- 
ting a  pagan  poet,  is  it  any  wonder,  that  he  should  leave 
my  little  mind  to  be  fettered  and  crippled,  and  my  time 
to  pass  away  in  a  useless  manner  ?  After  all,  I  am  treat- 
ed more  favorably  than  he  was  ;  and  I  desire  to  be  thank- 
ful that  it  is  no  worse  with  me.  You  may  make  similar 
reflections  respecting  P's  case.  Should  God  leave  him 
in  his  present  state,  all  his  days,  it  would  be  nothing  new 
in  the  history  of  his  dealings  with  his  people.  And  you 
will  allow  that  he  has  a  right  to  do  it,  and  that  he  will  not 
do  it,  unless  it  is  for  the  best.  Where,  then,  is  any  rea- 
son for  anxiety  ?  I  should  like,  indeed,  to  have  God  make 
use  of  me  to  do  great  things  ;  and  you  would  like  to  have 
him  employ  P.  to  do  great  things  ;  but  if  he  chooses  to 
leave  us  both  crippled  and  useless,  we  must  submit." 

To  the  Rev.  Daniel  Temple,  Missionary  to  Western 
Asia. 

"  Portland,  Oct.  13,  1822. 

"  My  dear  Brother, 

"  I  dare  not  decline  the  correspondence  which  you  pro- 
pose. The  common  rules  of  civility,  to  say  nothing  of 
Christian  affection,  forbid  it.  Yet  I  do  not  engage  in 
such  a  correspondence  without  reluctance.  I  ieel  none 
of  the  confidence  which  you  express  that  it  will  prove 
beneficial  to  you.  Did  your  sphere  of  action  resemble 
mine,  it  is  barely  possible  that  I  might  suggest  some  hints 
which  would  be  useful.  But  the  situation  of  a  missionary 
in  Palestine  differs  so  widely  from  that  of  a  minister  in  a 
Christian  country,  that  no  advice  which  I  can  give  would 
aflTord  you  any  assistance.  And  the  distance  between  us 
28 


326 


MEMOIR  OF 


increases  my  unwillingness  to  write.  Almost  any  thing  in 
the  form  of  a  letter  might  answer,  were  it  to  be  sent  only 
a  few  miles ;  but  a  letter  which  is  to  cross  the  seas,  which 
is  to  go  to  Palestine,  ought  surely  to  contain  something 
worth  reading.  Even  gold  and  silver  are  almost  too 
bulky  to  be  sent  so  far.  Such  a  letter  should  resemble 
bank  notes,  or  bills  of  exchange.  But  such  a  letter  I 
have  no  hopes  of  writing.  The  faculty  of  condensing 
much  in  a  small  compass  is  one  of  the  many  faculties, 
which  I  do  not  possess.  However,  I  will  write  :  may  he 
who  knows  in  what  circumstances  this  letter  will  find  you, 
guide  me  to  write  something,  which  may  prove  a  "word 
in  season." 

"  One  of  the  principal  results  of  the  little  expefience 
which  I  have  had  as  a  Christian  minister,  is  a  conviction 
that  religion  consists  very  much  in  giving  God  that  place 
in  our  views  and  feelings,  which  he  actually  fills  in  the 
universe.  We  know  that  in  the  universe  he  is  all  in  all. 
So  far  as  he  is  constantly  all  in  all  to  us,  so  far  as  we 
comply  with  the  Psalmist's  charge  to  his  soul,  "My  soul, 
wait  thou  only  upon  God  :"  so  far,  I  apprehend,  have  we 
advanced  towar<l  perfection.,  It  is  comparatively  easy  to 
wait  upon  God,  but  to  wait  upon  him  only, — to  feel,  so 
far  as  our  strength,  happiness,  and  usefulness  are  con- 
cerned, as  if  all  creatures  and  second  causes  were  anni- 
hilated, and  we  were  alone  in  the  universe  with  God,  is, 
I  suspect,  a  difficult  and  rare  attainment.  At  least,  I  am 
sure  it  is  one  which  T  am  very  far  from  having  made.  In 
proportion  as  we  make  this  attainment,  we  shall  find  ev- 
ery thing  easy  ;  for  we  shall  become,  emphatically,  men 
of  prayer  ;  and  we  may  say  of  prayer,  as  Solomon  says  of 
money,  that  it  answereth  all  things.  I  have  often 
thought  that  every  minister,  and  especially  every  mission- 
ary, ought  frequently  to  read,  or  at  least  call  to  mind, 
Foster's  Essay  on  the  Epithet  Romantic.  If  you  have 
not  his  essays  at  hand,  you  may  perhaps  recollect  some 
of  his  concluding  remarks.  After  showing  that  it  is 
highly  romantic  to  expect  extraordinary  success  from  or- 
dinary means,  he  adds,  to  this  effect,  "  The  individual, 
who  should  solemnly  resolve  to  try  the  best  and  last  pos- 
sible efficacy  of  prayer,  and  unalterably  determine  that 
heaven  should  not  withhold  a  single  influence,  which  the 


EDWAKD  PAYSON. 


327 


utmost  effort  of  persevering  prayer  could  bring  down, 
would  probably  find  himself  becoming  a  much  more  suc- 
cessful agent  in  his  little  sphere."  Very  few  missionaries 
since  the  Apostles,  probably,  have  tried  the  experiment. 
He,  who  shall  make  the  first  trial,  will,  I  believe,  effect 
wonders.  May  you,  my  dear  Brother,  be  that  happy  man. 
Nothing  that  I  could  write,  nothing  which  an  angel  could 
write,  would  be  necessary  to  him  who  should  make  this 
trial.  I  trust  that  you  will  find  our  Master  is  as  really 
present  in  Palestine  as  he  was  in  the  days  of  his  flesh ; 
that  you  will  sometimes  enjoy  his  presence  in  the  very 
places,  in  which  it  was  formerly  enjoyed  by  the  apostles. 
We  read  that,  on  one  occasion,  they  "  returned  to  Jesus 
and  told  him  all  things  both  what  they  had  done,  and 
what  they  had  taught."  If  we  were,  in  like  manner,  to 
come  to  his  feet  every  evening,  and  tell  him  where  we 
have  been,  what  we  have  done,  what  we  have  said,  and 
what  were  our  emotions  through  the  day ;  we  should,  I 
believe,  find  it  both  pleasant  and  profitable.  Perhaps  he 
would  say  to  us,  as  he  did  to  them.  Come  apart  and  rest 
with  me  awhile.  May  he  often  invite  you  to  rest  awhile 
with  him,  to  refresh  you  when  faint  and  weary ;  and  af- 
ter a  long  life  of  usefulness,  take  you  to  rest,  with  him 
forever  in  Jiis  own  heaven. 

"  I  write  no  religious  intelligence,  for  you  will  have  it 
in  the  Recorder. — I  may,  however,  mention  that  the  min- 
isters in  this  State,  agreed  to  observe  the  first  day  of  the 
present  year,  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  In  conse- 
quence, we  have  had  more  revivals  in  the  State  this  year, 
than  in  any  former  year,  though  none  of  them  has  been 
very  extensive.  About  forty  have  been  added  to  our 
church.  We  long  to  have  good  news  from  Palestine ; 
but  are  aware  that  we  must  wait  and  pray  long,  before  we 
can  expect  to  hear  much. 

"I  commend  you  to  God,  my  dear  Brother,  and  send 
this  letter  merely  as  a  proof  of  Christian  affection." 

To  a  kinsman  under  spiritual  trials. 

"My  dear  Brother, 

"  I  have  just  received  your  dolefiil  epistle,  and  thougli 
parochial  cares  press  upon  me, — having  just  returned  from 


328 


MEMOIR  OF 


a  journey, — I  must  snatch  a  moment  to  answer  it.  Would 
to  God,  I  could  write  something  which  would  prove  ser- 
viceable ;  but  I  fear  I  shall  not.  However  I  will  make 
the  attempt,  and  may  God  bless  it. — You  have  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  there  is  any  thing  peculiar  or  discouraging 
in  your  present  situation.  God  is  dealing  with  you,  as  he 
did  with  Hezekiah,  when  he  left  him  to  try  him,  that  he 
"  might  know  all  that  was  in  his  heart."  If  you  have  ever 
read  Mr.  Newton's  description  of  grace  in  the  blade,  in 
the  ear,  and  in  the  full  corn  :  you  will  recollect,  that  he 
mentions  "  desire,"  as  the  characteristic  of  the  first  stage  ; 
and  "  conflict,"  as  that  of  the  second.  If  I  understand 
your  letter,  you  have  entered  on  the  stage  of  conflict,  and 
must  now  expect  more  distressing  proofs  of  the  desperate 
wickedness  of  your  heart  than  you  had  before  experienced. 
In  another  letter  Mr.  Newton  says,  "  I  believe  God  never 
gives  his  people  much  of  a  victory  over  the  world,  till  he 
has  left  them  to  feel  how  great  is  its  power  over  them." 
This  remark,  I  have  no  doubt,  is  true  ;  and  God,  I  trust, 
is  now  preparing  you  for  a  victory  over  the  world,  by  shew- 
ing you  more  of  its  strength  and  your  own  weakness.  Be- 
sides, I  have  no  doubt  that  your  present  trials  are  occa- 
sioned, in  part,  by  the  state  of  your  health.  But  however 
this  may  be,  let  me  assure  you,  that  so  long  a.«  sin  is  seen, 
hated,  resisted;  so  long  as  we  groan  under  it  and  struggle 
against  it,  it  shall  not  harm  us.  Do  not,  then,  yield  to 
discouragement ;  do  not  neglect  the  means  of  grace,  as 
you  will  sometimes  be  strongly  tempted  to  do  ;  do  not 
cease  struggling,  because  your  struggles  seem  to  avail 
nothing  ;  but  continue,  like  Gideon,  though  "  faint,  yet 
pursuing."  Could  I  tell  you  what  bitter  proofs  I  have 
had  of  my  desperate,  desperate  depravity, — how  often  I 
have  been  brought  to  my  wit's  end, — how  often  I  should 
have  chosen  strangling  and  death  rather  than  life,  and  how 
I  have  been  carried  through  ail,  it  would,  I  think,  afford 
you  some  encouragement.  But  perhaps  you  will  say,  "  If 
I  could  feel  distre<;sed,  if  I  were  not  so  stupid  in  this  sit- 
uation, it  would  encourage  me."  And  how,  let  me  ask, 
are  you  to  learn  that  your  heart  is  like  the  nether  mill- 
stone, except  by  being  left,  for  a  time,  to  feel  that  nothing 
can  either  melt  or  move  it  ?  I  do  not,  of  cour.se,  mean  to 
justify  or  excuse  this  hardness  of  heart.    It  is  a  most 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


abominable  and  detestable  evil,  and  I  should  be  very  sorry 
to  say  any  thing  which  should  lead  you  to  think  lightly  of 
it ;  still,  if  our  hearts  are  hard  and  wicked,  in  a  far  great- 
er degree  than  we  ever  conceived  of,  it  is  surely  best  that 
we  should  Know  it  ;  else,  how  should  we  ever  be  duly 
grateful  to  our  great  Physician  for  healing  us.  Heal  you 
he  will,  my  dear  brother,  I  doubt  not ,  but  he  will  first  make 
you  know  how  sick,  how  mortally  sick,  you  are.  In  con- 
sequence, you  will  think  more  highly  than  ever  of  his 
kindness,  faithfulness  and  skill  ;  you  will  love  much,  be- 
cause much  has  been  forgiven  you,  and  you  will  be  better 
prepared  to  join  in  the  song  of  "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb." 
I  must  again,  however,  beseech  you  not  to  let  sin  turn 
these  precious  truths  to  poison,  by  tempting  you  to  think 
lightly  of  sin  :  and  not  by  any  means  be  driven  from  at- 
tempting to  read,  watch,  meditate,  and  pray.  In  your 
present  situation  this  is  the  great  danger.  You  will  be 
strongly  tempted  to  despondency  and  unbelief,  and  when 
these  evils  prevail  you  will  be  tempted  to  neglect  the  means 
of  grace,  as  useless,  or  as  means  which  you  cannot  use 
aright.    Resist  this  temptation,  and  all  will  be  well." 

Filial  and  fraternal  duty  happily  recognised. 

.  "  Mv  DEAR  Mother, 

*'  I  should  sooner  have  answered  your  last,  had  I  not 
expected,  ere  this,  to  see  you.  But  the  stage  disappoint- 
ed me.  I  had  engaged  a  place  in  it,  and  sat  up  all  night 
waiting  for  it,  but  it  did  not  come.  Thus,  no  doubt  for 
some  wise  reasons,  my  visit  to  you  was  prevented.  I  had 
two  particular  reasons  for  wishing  to  come.  One  was,  to 
talk  with  P.  lie  is  certainly  wrong;  he  is  entangled  in 
a  snare  of  satan  ;  he  can  pray,  and  he  must  pray  ;  he  has 
no  excuse.  His  unwillingness  to  have  you  press  him  on 
the  subject  is  wrong.  I  know  all  about  it.  I  have  been 
in  the  same  snare  myself  Whatever  P.  may  now  think, 
he  will,  sooner  or  later,  be.  convinced  that  the  grand 
ditficulty  lies,  not  in  his  nerves,  but  in  his  heart.  I  hope 
he  will  not  pretend  that  his  constitution  is  more  shattered, 
or  his  health  worse  than  mine.  But  I  have  never  seen  the 
time  when  I  could  not  pray,  if  my  heart  was  right.  Let 
him  not  think,  however,  that  I  mean  to  censure  him 
28* 


330 


MEMOIR  OF 


harshly.  I  have  been  too  guilty  myself,  to  allow  of  this^ 
But  I  do  beseech  him,  if  he  has  any  regard  to  his  happi- 
ness, here  or  hereafter,  not  to  let  satan  persuade  him, 
that  he  is  unable  to  pray.  There  have  been  many  sea- 
sons, in  which  I  could  pray  only  while  walking  my  study, 
and  even  then,  only  in  short,  vehement  ejaculations.  If 
I  knelt  down,  my  head  was  so  confused,  that  I  could  do 
nothing.  Let  him  resolve,  that  he  will  spend  some  time 
every  day  in  prayer,  if  he  can  do  nothing  more  than  cry, 
"  Lord,  pity  me!  Lord,  help  me  !"  He  is  ruined  if  he 
does  not. 

"  The  other  reason,  why  I  wished  to  see  you,  was  to 
know  what  your  plans  and  wishes  are  respecting  your 
place  of  residence,  when  H.  moves.  I  thought  that  you 
might,  perhaps,  feel  unwilling  to  move  so  far  as  New 
York.  I  hope  it  is  needless  to  tell  my  dear  mother,  that 
if  she  chooses  to  make  her  home  with  us,  we  will  do  all  in 
our  power  to  make  her  home  comfortable.  I  hope  she 
will  consult  nothing  but  her  own  inclinations.  If  her 
children  can  do  any  thing  to  make  the  remainder  of  her 
days  comfortable,  I  trust  they  all  have  a  full  disposition 
to  do  it.  She  has  only  to  say  the  word,  a. id  we  will  place 
her  where   she   thinks   she  will  be  most  comfortable. 

"  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that,  for  a  few  weeks,  I 
have  enjoyed  some  respite  from  my  sufferings.  I  ob- 
served the  last  anniversary  of  my  ordination  and  the 
first  day  of  the  present  year,  as  days  of  fasting  and 
prayer  ;  and  though  I  could  do  little  more  than  groan 
and  sigh,  a  blessing  has  followed.  I  have  suffered  none 
too  much.  Not  one  pang  could  have  been  spared. 
Should  I  suffer  hereafter,  do  not  let  it  distress  you.  It 
is  all  necessary ;  all  will  be  well  at  last." 

Trembling  Christians  directed  to  the  source  of  joy  and 
strength. 

"  Many  of  the  church  have  been  so  much  distressed, 
that  I  thought  it  necessary  to  comfort  them,  if  possible  ; 
and  on  the  Sabbath  morning,  preached  from  1  Sam.  12  : 
20 — 24,  "  Fear  not ;  ye  have  done  all  this  wickedness," 
&.C.  My  design  was,  to  show  trembling,  desponding 
Christians,  that,  notwithstanding  all  their  great  wicked- 


12DWARD  PAYSON. 


331 


oess,  they  ought  still  to  follow  God  with  confidence  and 
increasing  diligence  ;  and  that,  if  they  would  do  this,  tliey 
need  not  despond,  or  despair,  when  God  shows  them  what 
is  in  their  hearts.  Meditate  on  the  passage,  if  you  please  ; 
and  I  hope  it  may  encourage  you  as  much  as  it  did  the 
church.  I  have  preached  more  respecting  Christ,  of  lute 
than  ever ;  and  am  more  and  more  convinced,  that 
the  knowledge  of  Christ  crucified,  is  the  one  thing  need- 
ful, the  grand  source  of  peace,  and  joy,  and  growth  in 
grace.  Count  all  things  loss  for  the  excellency  of  this 
knowledge  ;  and  pray  for  it  more  than  for  any  thing  else, 
and  you  will  find  it  to  be  so." 

To  a  brother,  who  shrunk  from  his  duty,  through  de- 
pression of  mind,  and  an  erroneous  opinion  of  his  own 
qualifications  for  the  ministry. — Lest  any  should  use  the 
authority  of  Dr.  Payson's  name  to  urge  men  to  assume  the 
sacred  office  without  the  requisite  qualifications,  it  ought 
to  be  stated,  that  the  person,  addressed  in  the  following 
letter,  besides  possessing  decided  piety,  had  passed  through 
a  regular  course  of  preparatory  studies  at  a  TheologicaJ 
Seminary. 

"  My  dear  Brother, 

"  Your  letter  found  me  more  than  ordinarily  hurried  ; 
but  I  feel  it  to  be  so  important  that  you  should  be  licensed, 
this  fall,  that  I  must  snatch  a  moment  to  answer  it.  Your 
feelings,  as  you  describe  them,  are  just  like  mine,  only 
less  aggravated  by  long  continuance.  I  mention  this  that 
you  may  pay  more  regard  to  my  advice.  I  am  as  certain, 
that  it  is  best  for  you  to  take  license  immediately,  as  I  can 
be  of  any  thing.  Rely  upon  it,  that,  if  you  delay,  your 
difficulties  will  increase,  and  you  will  feel  more  and  more 
as  if  it  was  impossible  to  preach.  Your  only  safety  lies  in 
placing  yourself  in  circumstances,  which  will  make  exer- 
tion necessary,  and  which  will  secure  divine  assistance. 
Never  mind  your  infirmities.  You  have  nothing  to  do 
with  them.  Your  business  is  to  trust,  and  go  forward. 
If  you  wait  till  the  sea  becomes  land,  you  will  never  walk 
on  it.  You  must  leave  the  ship,  and,  like  Peter,  set  your 
feet  upon  the  waves,  and  you  will  find  them  marble. 
Christ  is  a  good  Master.    He  wont  suffer  you  to  sink  ; 


332 


MeMOiR  or 


and  you  will,  at  length,  glory  in  your  infirmities.    I  would 

not  give  up  the  precious  proofs,  which  I  have  received,  in 
consequence  of  my  weakness,  of  his  power,  faithfulness, 
and  love,  for  all  the  comforts  of  good  health.  But  be  as- 
sured, that,  if  you  remain  as  you  are,  satan  will  weave  a 
net  round  you,  which  you  will  never  break.  Every  men- 
tal aud  religious  effort  will  become  more  difficult  and 
painful  ;  your  mind  will  be  like  the  body  of  a  rickety 
child  ;  you  will  live  a  burden  to  yourself,  and  friends,  and 
die  without  the  consolation  of  having  been  made  useful. 
This  would  iniallibly  have  been  my  fate,  had  I  not  been 
thrust  into  the  ministry,  before  I  well  knew  what  I  was 
about.  Yet  you  see  I  have,  somehow  or  other,  been  car- 
ried along,  and  so  will  you  be.  Do  not  then,  my  dear, 
dear  brother,  stand  hesitating.  A  feeble  nervous  man 
must  not  deliberate,  but  act ;  for  his  deliberation  will  not 
be  worth  a  straw,  but  his  activity  may  be,  and  probably 
will  be,  useful  both  to  himself  and  others. 

"  When  Christ  told  his  disciples  to  feed  the  multitude 
with  five  loaves,  they  did  not  hesitate,  and  say.  Lord,  let 
us  first  see  the  bread  multiplied.  If  we  begin,  and  have 
not  enough,  we  shall  be  put  to  shame  ; — but  they  distrib- 
uted what  they  had,  and  it  increased  in  the  distribution. 
So  you  will  find  it.  You  rtmst,  therefore,  go  forward. 
There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not.  If  you  delay,  in- 
dolence will  steal  upon  you,  and  bind  you  in  chains,  which 
you  will  never  break. 

"  I  charge  you,  then,  before  God,  and  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  to  be  up  and  doing.  There  are  fifty  places  in  this 
state,  where  the  most  unconnected  tlungs,  which  your 
lips  could  utter,  would  do  good,  and  be  well  received. 
You  have  no  conception  by  what  apparently  feeble  means 
God  often  works  wonders.  Let  the  next  tidings  I  hear 
from  you,  be,  that  you  have  crossed  the  Rubicon  ;  or 
rather,  let  me  see  you  here,  forthwith,  in  the  character  of 
a  preacher. 

"  My  health  is  as  usual,  but  my  Master  is  more  than 
usually  kind.  At  my  request,  the  church  lately  had  a 
special  meeting  to  pray  for  ine  ;  not  for  my  health,  for  I 
don't  care  a  piu  about  it,  but  for  my  spiritual  welfare. 
God  has  heard  them  wonderfully,  and  my  cup  runs  over." 


EPWARD  PAYSON. 


Prudential  advice  on  the  preservation  of  healtii,  ad- 
dressed to  a  student  in  Divinity. 

"  My  dear  Brother, 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  learn  that  your  health  is  not  bet- 
ter, but  rather  worse,  than  when  I  was  at  R.  Should  it 
not  have  improved  before  you  receive  this,  I  beg  you  will 
attend  to  it  without  delay  ;  attend  to  it,  as  your  tirst  and 
chief  duty;  for  such,  be  assured  it  is.  "A  merciful 
man  is  merciful  to  his  beast and  you  must  be  merci- 
ful to  your  beast,  or,  as  Mr.  M.  would  say,  to  your  "ani- 
mal." Remember  that  it  is  your  Master's  property ;  and 
he  will  no  more  thank  you  for  driving  it  to  death,  than 
an  earthly  master  would  thank  a  servant  for  riding  a 
valuable  horse  to  death,  under  pretence  of  zeal  for  his 
interest.  The  truth  is,  I  am  afraid,  satan  has  jumped  on 
to  the  saddle,  and  when  he  is  there,  in  the  guise  of  an 
angel  of  light,  he  whips  and  spurs  at  a  most  unmer- 
ciful rate,  as  every  joint  in  my  poor  broken-winded  ani- 
mal can  testify,  from  woful  experience.  He  has  tempta- 
tions for  the  conscience,  as  Mr.  Newton  well  observes  ; 
and  when  other  temptations  fail,  he  makes  great  use  of 
them.  Many  a  poor  creature  has  he  ridden  to  death, 
by  using  his  conscience  as  a  spur,  and  you  must  not  be  ig- 
norant, nor  act  as  if  you  were  ignorant,  of  his  devices.  Re- 
member Mr.  Brainerd's  remark,  that  diversions,  rightly 
managed,  increased,  rather  than  diminished  his  spirituali- 
ty. I  now  feel  that  I  am  never  serving  our  Master  more 
acceptably,  than  when,  for  his  sake,  I  am  using  means  to 
preserve  my  health,  and  lengthen  my  life  ;  and  you  must 
feel,  in  a  similar  manner,  if  you  mean  to  do  him  much 
.service  in  the  world.  He  knows  what  you  would  do  for 
him,  if  you  could.  He  knows  that  your  spirit  is  willing, 
when  your  flesh  is  weak.  Do  not  think  less  favorably 
of  him,  than  you  would  of  a  judicious,  affectionate  father. 
Do  not  think  that  he  requires  you  to  labor,  when  such  a 
father  would  enjoin  rest  or  relaxation.  Ride,  then,  or  go 
a  fishing,  or  employ  yourself  in  any  way,  which  will  ex- 
ercise the  body  gently,  without  wearying  the  mind.  A- 
bove  all,  make  trial  of  the  shower  bath.  You  can  easily 
fix  up  something  which  will  answer  the  purpose.  Try  it, 
first,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the  weather 


334 


MEMOIR  OF 


is  warm  ;  and  if  you  feel  a  glow  after  it,  it  does  you  good  ; 
but  if  it  occasions  chilliness,  you  must  rather  try  a  warm 
bath.  My  dear  brother  do  attend  immediately  to  these 
hints,  for  much  depends  upon  it." 

To  two  young  sisters,  the  children  of  distant  friends  : 

 "  I  wish  to  show  you  that  I  feel  a  deep  interest  in 

your  eternal  welfare,  and  am  willing  to  do  any  thing  in 
my  power  to  promote  it.  There  is  a  circumstance  rela- 
ted in  the  book  of  Judges,  respecting  the  early  part  of 
Samson's  life,  which  suggests  some  thoughts  that  may  per- 
haps be  useful  to  you.  We  are  there  told,  that  "  the  child 
grew,  and  that  the  Lord  blessed  him,  and  that  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  began  to  move  him  at  times."  I  have  ho  doubt 
that,  in  a  little  different  sense,  the  Spirit  of  God  begins, 
very  early,  to  move,  at  times,  upon  the  minds  of  children 
and  young  persons  ;  especially  of  those,  who,  like  Samson, 
have  pious  parents  and  have  been,  like  him,  dedicated  to 
God.  He  has  thus,  I  believe,  at  times,  moved  upon  your 
minds.  Have  you  not  reason  to  suppose  that  He  has  ? 
Have  you  not  sometimes  had  serious  thoughts  and  feelings 
arise  in  your  minds,  without  any  apparent  cause  ?  Have 
you  not  found  something  within  you  which  urged  upon 
you  the  necessity  of  prayer,  of  remembering  your  Creator, 
and  of  preparing  for  death  ?  My  dear  young  friends,  that 
something  was  tlie  Spirit  of  God,  moving  upon  your  minds. 
Whenever  such  thoughts  and  feelings  rise,  without  any 
external  cause,  you  may  be  certain  that  He  is  near  you. 
Have  you  not  also  found  that  religious  instruction  affects 
you  very  differently,  at  different  times  ?  sometimes,  per- 
haps, it  scarcely  affects  you  at  all.  At  other  times,  the  same 
truths  take  firm  hold  of  your  attention,  and  excite  your 
feelings.  Now  what  occasions  this  difference  ?  It  is  this. 
At  one  time,  the  Spirit  of  God  presses  home  the  truth  up- 
on your  minds,  and  causes  it  to  affect  you.  At  another 
time,  He  does  not  apply  it,  and  then  it  produces  no  effect. 
Our  Saviour,  you  recollect,  compares  the  operations  of 
the  Spirit  to  those  of  the  wind.  Now  when  you  see  the 
branches  of  a  tree  agitated,  without  any  visible  cause,  you 
conclude,  at  once,  that  the  wind  is  blowing  upon  them. 
Just  so,  when  your  minds  are  interested  and  aitected  in  a 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


335 


serious  manner  by  religious  considerations,  you  may  con- 
clude that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  moving  upon  them.  And 
can  you  not  recollect  many  seasons,  or  at  least  some  sea- 
sons, in  which  He  has  thus  moved  upon  them  ?  If  so, 
consider  how  great  a  favor,  how  great  an  act  of  conde- 
scension it  was  on  the  part  of  God,  thus  to  visit  you.  Had 
He  sent  an  angel  from  heaven  to  warn  you,  you  would 
have  thought  it  a  great  favor.  You  would  have  been  ready 
to  ask,  with  surprise,  why  does  the  infinite,  everlasting 
God,  condescend  to  send  an  angel  from  heaven  to  pro- 
mote our  welfare  ?  But  for  God  to  send  His  Spirit  to 
move  upon  your  minds,  is  a  much  greater  favor,  a  much 
greater  act  of  condescension,  than  it  would  be  to  send  an 
angel  to  you.  O  then,  how  greatly  ought  you  to  love 
and  thank  him  for  such  a  favor,  and  how  carefully  should 
you  cherish,  how  humbly  should  you  yield  to  the  motions 
of  this  heavenly  visiter  !  Are  you  still  favored  with  his 
visits?  Does  he  still  move,  at  times,  upon  your  minds?  If 
so,  be  careful,  O  be  scrupulously  careful,  not  to  grieve 
Him,  and  cause  Him  to  forsake  you.  But  perhaps  He 
has  already  withdrawn  from  you.  If  so,  will  you  not  im- 
plore His  return  ?  Will  you  not,  after  reading  this,  kneel 
down  and  say,  '  Lord,  I  have  ungratefully  neglected 
and  grieved  thy  good  Spirit,  and  He  has  justly  withdrawn 
from  me.  It  would  be  just,  should  He  never  return  to 
me.  Yet  in  thy  great  mercy,  let  Him  return,  and  again 
move  upon  my  mind ;  let  Him  come  and  enlighten  and 
sanctify  me.'    Let  this  be  your  daily  urgent  request." 

To  his  Parents  under  varfbus  and  accumulated  af- 
flictions : 

"  What  a  catalogue  of  trials  does  your  letter  contain. 
I  am  more  and  more  convinced  of  what  I  have  long  sus- 
pected, that  God  tries  his  people,  first,  with  inward, 
spiritual  trials  ;  and,  then,  when  they  have  acquired  some 
degree  of  experience,  and  faith  has  become  strong,  he 
visits  them  with  outward  afflictions. 

"  Dr.  Owen  says,  that  Heb.  12;  6,  ought  to  be  ren- 
dered, "  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth  ;  yea,  al- 
so, he  severely  chastiseth,  above  the  ordinary  measure, 
those  sons  whom  he  accepts,  and  peculiarly  delights  in." 


336 


MEMOIR  OF 


If  this  rendering  be  correct, — and  the  Doctor  certainly 
makes  it  appear  so, — my  parents  have  reason  to  think 
themselves  special  favorites.  Perhaps  for  a  short  time 
before  death,  God's  people  may  be,  in  a  measure,  ex- 
empted from  both  inward  and  outward  trials. 

"  I  have  tried  to  write,  because  your  letter  ought  to  be 
answered,  and  because  I  wished  to  write  something  con- 
solatory under  your  afflictions  ;  but  I  can  only  echo  back 
your  groans  !" 

To  a  Christian  brother  of  rank  and  wealth  : 

"  I  have  thought  much  of  your  situation,  since  I  left 
you.  It  is  but  seldom  that  God  gives  one  of  his  children 
so  many  temporal  blessings,  as  he  has  given  you.  He  has 
hitherto  preserved  you,  and  will,  I  trust,  continue  to  pre- 
serve you,  from  the  evils  which  attend  a  state  of  prosper- 
ity- But  it  is,  as  you  are  aware,  a  dangerous  state,  and 
calls  for  great  watchfulness,  and  much  prayer.  You  are, 
doubtless,  conscious  of  many  evil  propensities  working 
within  ;  but  they  may  work  long,  and  produce  much  in- 
ternal mischief,  before  their  effects  become  external  and 
visible  to  others.  The  effects  of  temporal  prosperity  up- 
on the  mind,  resemble  those  of  an  unhealthy  atmosphere 
upon  the  body.  The  constitution  is  gradually,  and  al- 
most insensibly  undermined  and  weakened  ;  and  yet  no 
particular  part  can  be  pointed  out,  as  the  seat  of  the  dis- 
ease, for  the  poison  is  diffused  through  the  whole  system. 
Spiritual  lassitude,  the  loss  of  spiritual  appetite,  and  an 
indisposition  to  vigorous  spiritual  exertion,  are  some  of 
the  first  perceptible  symptoms,  that  the  poison  of  pros- 
perity is  at  work.  When  a  man  detects  these  symptoms 
in  himself,  it  is  time  for  him  to  be  alarmed.  If  he  de- 
lays a  little  longer,  the  disease  will  make  such  progress, 
as  to  render  him  insensible  to  his  danger. — Were  I  pla- 
ced in  such  a  situation,  I  should  be  ruined  in  six  months. 
Still,  your  situation  is,  in  one  respect,  desirable.  It  is 
one,  in  which  you  may  do  much  for  the  glory  of  God,  and 
the  promotion  of  his  cause." 

To  his  revered  Mother,  on  leaving  her  habitation,  at 
the  final  dispersion  of  her  family,  August,  1824. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


337 


"  My  dear  Mother, 

"I  was  a  little  surprised,  when  you  were  with  us,  to 
hear  you  say  nothing  of  the  unpleasantness  of  being  obli- 
ged, at  your  age,  to  remove  far  from  the  place  where  you 
had  spent  so  many  years.  It  seemed  to  me,  that  such  a 
removal  must  involve  many  circumstances,  which  would 
be  very  disagreeable,  and  even  painful.  But  as  you  said 
little  or  nothing  on  the  subject,  I  concluded  that  it  did  not 
appear  equally  unpleasant  to  you.  It  seems  from  your 
letter,  however,  that  the  time  of  trial  had  not  then  arrived  ; 
and  that  you  have  since  been  troubled  about  your  removal 
as  I  expected  you  would  be.  I  am  glad  to  find  tiiat  the 
trial  has  now  lost  something  of  its  bitterness,  and  that  you 
feel  reconciled  to  go  where  Providence  calls.  You  have 
some  illustrious  e.xamples  among  God's  ancient  servants, 
to  encourage  and  instruct  you.  Abraham,  called  to  leave 
his  country  and  his  father's  house, — and  Jacob,  obliged  in 
his  old  age  to  go  down  into  Egypt,  had  trials  harder,  prob- 
bably,  than  yours,  though  of  the  same  nature.  But  they 
went,  and  God  went  with  them  ;  and  he  will  go  with  you  ; 
doubt  it  not.  On  the  other  hand,  see  how  he  dealt  with 
his  enemies.  "  Moab  hath  been  at  ease  from  his  youth, 
and  hath  not  been  emptied  from  vessel  to  vessel  ;  there- 
fore his  taste  remaineth  in  him,  and  his  scent  is  not  chan- 
ged." You  have  not  been  at  ease  from  your  youth,  and 
you  have  been  emptied  from  vessel  to  vessel ;  and  you 
are  now  to  be  emptied  again  from  one  vessel  to  an- 
other. And  surely  this  is  better  than  to  be  treated  like 
Moab,  and  possess  his  character.  Besides,  as  God  said  to 
Jacob  in  his  old  age,  "  Fear  not  to  go  down  into  Egypt," 
so  he  says  to  you,  Fear  not  to  go  wherever  I  call ;  for  my 
presence  shall  go  with  you.  I  hope  you  feel  no  anxieties 
of  a  pecuniary  nature.  While  one  of  your  cliildren  has 
any  thing,  you  will  not  want.  But  why  do  I  say  this  ? 
Rather  let  me  say,  The  Lord  is  your  Shepherd,  and  while 
he  possesses  any  thing,  you  shall  not  want.  Poor  *****^ 
too,  will  be  taken  care  of  As  to  ******** ^  \  can  only 
say,  once  more,  leave  him  with  his  Master.  He  knows 
what  to  do  with  him,  and  he  will  do  all  things  well.  If 
he  chooses  rather  that  ********  should  suffer,  he  will  over- 
rule all  his  sufferings  for  good.  Only  pray  for  him,  and 
then  leave  him. 

29 


338 


MEMOIR  OF 


"  I  preached  yesterday  on  this  passage,  "  Though  he 
will  not  give  him  because  he  is  his  friend,  yet  because  of 
his  importunity  he  will  rise  and  give  him  as  many  as  he 
needeth."  This,  as  well  as  the  parable  of  the  unjust 
judge,  evidently  teaches,  that  importunate  prayer  will  pre- 
vail, when  nothing  else  can.  A  man  may  pray  ten  times, 
and  be  denied  ;  and  yet,  by  praying  ten  times  more,  ob- 
tain the  blessing.  Had  the  Syro-Phoenecian  ceased,  after 
making  three  applications  to  Christ,  she  would  have  gone 
away  empty  ;  but  by  applying  once  more,  she  obtained  all 
that  she  asked. 

"  It  has  been  a  time  of  trial  with  me,  as  well  as  with 
you,  since  we  parted.  I  have  been  reduced  lower  in  point 
of  health  than  on  any  former  occasion.  For  four  weeks  1 
was  unable  to  preach,  and  doubted  whether  I  should  ever 
preach  more.  But  this  was  all  my  trial  and  I  was  kept 
very  quiet.  My  sermon  on  "  Be  still,''  &c.  followed  me, 
and  God  in  mercy  inclined  me  to  be  still.  My  people 
urged  me  very  strongly  to  make  a  voyage  to  Europe,  and 
offered  to  supply  the  pulpit  and  pay  all  my  expenses.  But 
though  I  should  like  well  enough  to  see  Europe,  I  could 
not  feel  any  freedom  to  go.  I  did  not  like  to  have  so  much 
expense  lavished  upon  me,  nor  did  I  know  how  to  lose  so 
much  time  as  such  a  voyage  would  require.  I  am  now 
better,  and  have  been  able  to  preach  the  three  last  Sab- 
batiis.  But  I  seem  to  preach  in  vain.  There  is  no  noise 
nor  shaking  among  the  dry  bones,  and  even  of  the  church 
I  may  almo.st  say.  There  is  no  breath  in  them.  But  I  am 
kept  from  impatience,  and  am  not  quite  discouraged.  As 
I  know  how  desirous  you  feel  that  your  children  should 
love  each  other,  I  would  tell  you,  if  I  could,  how  much  I 
love  E.  I  loved  her  much  before  her  last  visit,  and  she 
endeared  herself  still  more  to  us  during  that  visit.  I  be- 
lieve too  that  I  love  my  brothers ^rc^f^  loell.  Do  tell  them 
so.  What  you  say  respecting  the  complaints  of  ministers, 
who  visit  us,  I  have  heard  before.  I  do  not  wonder  at  it. 
They  have  some  reason  to  complain.  But  the  reason  of 
our  apparent  coldness  is  what  you  suppose  it  to  be.  Press- 
ed down  to  the  very  dust,  as  I  usually  am,  I  cannot  always 
dress  my  countenance  in  smiles,  nor  prevent  it  from  ex- 
pressing my  sufferings.  Hence  1  am  unpopular  among 
ministere.    It  is  a  trial,  but  I  cannot  help  it." 


EUWARD  FAYSON. 


339 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

His  pricate  character.  His  affections  and  demeanor, 
as  a  husband,  father,  master ,  friend .  His  gratitude,  e- 
conomy,  generosity.    His  temper  of  mind  under  injuries. 

It  is  not  every  character,  that  will  bear  a  close  inspec- 
tion. The  more  intimately  some  men  are  viewed,  the 
less  veneration  and  respect  are  felt  for  them.  This  is 
true  of  some  in  elevated  stations,  and  possessing  no  small 
share  of  public  confidence.  Even  the  church  presents 
this  anomaly.  A  man  may  bear  a  saint-like  visage  abroad, 
and  yet  be  a  very  fiend  in  his  own  family;  may  put  on 
meekness  and  devotion  in  a  worshipping  assembly,  while 
he  is  the  haughty  tyrant  of  his  wife  and  children  ;  may 
preach  self-denial  and  condescension,  and  yet  carry  it 
lordly  towards  the  inmates  of  his  own  dwelling, —  making 
them  the  ministers  of  his  will  and  pleasure,  or  else  em- 
bittering their  existence  by  his  savage  temper  and  unrea- 
sonable complaints. 

Professional  men,  whose  public  duties  are  very  numer- 
ous and  urgent,  are  liable  to  fail  in  many  of  those  miautfi 
regards,  which  contribute  so  much  to  heighten  the 

 "only  bliss 

"Of  Paradise,  which  has  survived  the  fall." 

With  the  prevailing  desire  and  purpose  to  yield  to  every 
claim  its  due  consideration,  they  are  in  danger  of  thinking 
that  they  do  well,  if  they  are  only  indiffierent  to  those  of 
the  least  miposing  description  which  originate  in  their  do- 
mestic relations ;  that  they  are  not  only  excusable,  but 
disinterested  and  praiseworthy,  in  neglecting,  from  devo- 
tion to  the  public  welfare,  the  ten  thousand  little  atten- 
tions to  a  wife's  comfort  and  children's  instruction  and  en- 
joyment, which,  though  each  requires  but  a  moment's  time, 
and,  taken  singly,  scarcely  deserves  specification,  consti- 
tute, in  the  aggregate,  the  principal  p^rt  of  domestic  fe- 
licity.   But  a  man's  circumstances  must  be  very  peculiar, 


340 


MEMOIR  OF 


to  render  these  two  classes  of  duties  incompatible  with 
each  other.  The  look  of  affection,  the  kind  word  seasona- 
bly interposed,  the  helping  hand  which  love  extends,  the 
eye  ever  awake  to  anticipate  the  little  wants  of  the  house- 
hold, the  heart  prompt  to  seize  opportunities  to  soothe 
sorrow,  to  calm  excited  feelings,  to  inspire  and  promote 
joy,  and  to  alleviate  the  burden  of  maternal  anxieties  and 
cares,  which  press  incessantly  upon  the  wife, — what  sac- 
rifice of  public  duty  do  these  require  ?  Yet  who  can  calcu- 
late the  misery  which  they  prevent,  or  the  blessedness 
which  they  confer?  As  it  is  not  great  calamities,  which 
render  men  unhappy — but  petty  injuries,  and  provoca- 
tions, and  disappointments,  c  onstantly  recurring,  too  tri- 
fling to  excite  public  sympathy,  or  to  be  made  the  subject 
of  loud  complaint ;  so  it  is  not  insulated  acts  of  profuse 
generosity,  and  widely  separated  though  extravagant  ex- 
pressions of  affection,  which  constitute  the  reality  or  the 
happiness  of  friendship — especially  of  a  friendship  so  pure 
and  endearing,  as  ought  ever  to  subsist  between  those 
who  are  united  by  conjugal  ties.  These  holy  bonds  are 
cemented  and  strengthened  by  daily  and  hourly  acts  and 
expressions  of  kindness.  And  where,  in  the  w  hole  com- 
pass of  motives,  could  a  consideration  be  found  to  enforce 
this  conjugal  tenderness,  so  affecting  and  impressive,  as 
that  example  of  love,  to  which  St.  Paul  refers  the  husband 
for  2.  pilt'.Sril  Cf  his  GWr*  July  !  Ana,  it  may  be  adde'i, 
what  other  reference  could  have  conferred  such  exalted 
honor  on  the  marriage  relation  ? — "  Husbands,  love  your 
wives,  even  as  Christ  also  loved  the  church. — Be  not  bit- 
ter against  them."  This  was  Dr.  Payson's  law,  in  all  that 
pertained  to  conjugal  duties  ;  and  to  this  his  daily  practice 
exhibited  as  exact  a  conformity,  perhaps,  as  is  ever  seen 
in  this  state  of  imperfection.  Reasons  have  already  been 
suggested,  why  a  sparing  use  should  be  made  of  those  let- 
ters, which  exhibit  his  tenderness  and  fidelity  in  this  rela- 
tion ;  but  a  few  extracts  may  with  propriety  be  introduced. 

"  At  Sea,  May  10,  1815. 

"  My  dear  Wife, 

"  As  this  is  the  fiist  time  I  have  had  occasion  to  ad- 
dress  a  letter  to  you,  since  we  were  married  ;  I  thought  it 
necessary,  before  I  began,  to  consider,  a  few  moments, 


Eft  WARD  FAYSON. 


4,341 


by  what  title  to  address  you.  The  result  of  my  medita- 
tions, was,  a  determination  to  employ  the  term  "w4fe," 
in  preference  to  any  other.  If  you  ask  why  I  prefer  tliat 
name,  I  answer — because  it  reminds  me  that  yon  are 
mine,  my  own.  I  might  call  you  "  dear  Louisa,"  "  dear 
friend,"  or  "  dear" — any  thing  else  ;  and  it  might  mean 
only  that  you  were  a  sister,  a  friend,  or  a  favorite.  But 
when  1  call  you  "  my  wiie,"  it  seems  to  me  to  mean  eve- 
ry thing  sweet,  amiable,  and  endearing.  It  not  only  re- 
minds me,  that  she,  to  whom  I  write,  is,  under  God,  mine; 
but  that  she  is  mine  by  the  gift  and  appointment  of  God  ; 
mine,  by  the  sacred  bond  of  marriage,  which  seems  to 
give  an  air  of  sacrednessto  our  union. — After  all,  I  have 
not  said  what  I  meant  to  say  ;  but  something  a  little 
like  it.  So  do  you  try  to  imagine,  or  rather  to  feel,  what 
I  meant  to  say  ;  and  then  confess  that  I  have  succeeded, 
better  than  you,  in  choosing  a  title,  with  which  to  head  a 
letter.  For  my  own  part,  1  would  rather  you  should  call 
me,  dear  husband,  than  "dear  friend,"  or  "dear  Ed- 
ward," &LC.  However,  call  me  by  what  name  you  please, 
your  letters  will  always  be  precious,  while  they  continue 
to  utter  the  language  of  affection.  I  have  just  been  read- 
ing one,  of  two,  which  1  have  already  found  among  my 
baggage.  If  you  knew  the  pleasure  they  gave  me,  you 
would  feel  well  paid  for  the  trouble  of  writing.  1  fully  in- 
tended to  write,  at  least  one,  to  you,  and  leave  it  behind 
me  ;  but  I  could  think  of  no  place  to  put  it,  in  which  you 
would  be  certain  to  find  it.  But  I  must  hasten  to  give  you 
•some  account  of  our  voyage. 

Friday  and  Saturday,  we  had  fair  winds  and  pleasant 
weather,  and  1  was  not  at  all  sea-sick.  But  on  Sunday,  it 
began  to  rain  and  blow  hard.  In  the  evening  it  increas- 
ed to  quite  a  gale,  but  was  still  favorable,  so  that,  on 
Monday  noon,  we  found  ourselves,  by  observation,  ninety 
miles  .south  of  Philadelphia.  Since  that  time,  we  have 
been  beating  about,  vainly  trying  to  get  within  the  Capes 
of  Delaware.  We  have  jus'  taken  a  pilot  on  board,  and 
hope  to  reach  Philadelphia  in  about  forty-eight  hours. 
Since  the  gale  on  Sunday,  the  Doctor  and  I  have  been 
very  sick,  and  able  to  eat  nothing.  For  two  days  and 
nights  without  intermission,  I  was  tormented  with  one 
of  my  nervous  head-aches.    This  morning,  it  has  left  me, 


MEMOIR  OF 


and  I  begin  to  feel  something  like  an  appetite.  I  will 
only  add  now,  as  an  excuse  for  writing  so  miserably,  that 
I  am,  at  this  moment,  tossing  and  rolling  about  worse 
than  a  boy  in  a  swing,  or  on  the  ead  of  a  plank.  Every 
thing  near  me,  which  is  moveable,  rolls  from  side  to  side, 
incessantly  ;  and  I  should  do  the  same,  did  (  not  hold  on 
to  something  stable.  Iwill,  therefore,  defer  the  conclu- 
sion of  my  letter,  till  I  am  more  established. 

"  Philadelphia,  May  11. 
"  We  arrived  here  late  last  nig'it,  after  a  most  delight- 
ful sail  up  the  Delaware.  Wind  and  tide  both  favored 
us,  so  that  we  came  at  the  rate  of  eleven  miles  an  hour, 
for  ten  hours  successively.  Scarcely  ever  have  I  experi- 
enced so  much  pleasure,  in  one  day.    Every  body  seemed 

happy.    Dr.  and  I  were  in  high  health  and  spirits  ; 

the  prospect  on  the  banks  of  the  river  was  delightful,  and 
changing  every  moment.  The  day  was  fine,  and  the 
swiftness  of  our  motion  was  very  agreeable;  and,  to 
crown  all,  I  saw  God  in  his  works,  and  tasted  of  his 
goodness,  in  every  thing.  Excess  of  pleasure  was  almost 
painful ;  before  night,  I  was  fairly  weary  of  enjoyment, 
and  wished  for  sleep.  I  thought  of  you  almost  every  mo- 
ment ;  and  nothing  but  the  presence  of  yourself  and  the 
children  was  wanting  to  render  me  as  happy,  as  I  can 
ever  be  in  this  world.  Last  night,  I  dreamed  that  I  had 
reached  home.  I  felt  your  tears  of  affection  upon  my 
cheek,  and  little  Edward's  arms  round  my  neck ;  but  I 
awoke,  and  it  was  a  dream. — I  have  not  yet  been  ashore. 
Every  body  on  board  is  in  a  bustle  ;  the  passengers  has- 
tening to  visit  their  friends,  and  I  standing  away  in  one 
corner  alone,  talking  with  my  best,  dearest  earthly  friend. 
You,  at  the  distance  of  five  hundred  miles,  have  more  at- 
tractions for  me,  than  the  whole  city  of  Philadelphia, 
which  lies  spread  out  before  me,  and  in  which  I  have 
scarcely,  as  yet,  bestowed  a  glance.  If  I  did  not  write 
thus  early,  I  should  not  be  able  to  send  my  letter,  to-day  ; 
and  you  would  be  obliged  to  wait  one  day  longer,  before 
you  heard  from  us.  I  now  begin  to  regret  that  I  did  not 
urge  you  more  to  meet  me  at  New  Haven.  It  would  b  •  4 
great  gratification  to  have  you  so  much  nearer  to  me,  and  to 
think  of  meeting  you  so  much  sooner.  I  still  have  a 
faint  hope,  that  you  will  be  there. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


343 


"  Kiss  the  children  for  me  ;  talk  to  them  about  me  ;  love 
me,  as  I  do  you,  better  than  I  did  ;  yes,  far  better  than  I 
did,  when  I  wrote  the  last  letter  to  you  before  we  were 
married.  Love  to  all  who  inquire  for  me.  God  be  with 
you,  bless  you,  keep  you,  my  dear,  dear  wife. 

"  So  prays  your  affectionate  husband." 

In  a  letter  written  during  another  season  of  absence,  is 
the  following  beautiful  passage,  in  which  the  gentle  and 
the  severe  are  most  charmingly  blended  : 

 "  Though  your  letter  was  consoling,  it  grieved  me 

for  a  moment.  It  did  not  seem  to  breathe  so  much  ten- 
derness, as  your  former  letters.  But  I  soon  perceived  the 
reason.  Your  mind  was  braced  up  to  help  me  bear  my 
burdens  ;  and  in  such  a  state  of  mind,  it  is  not  easy  to 
feel  or  express  tenderness.  I  hope  you  will  remember 
this  remark.  You  know  that  I  am  often  obliged,  while  at 
home,  to  put  on  all  the  iron  I  can  command,  in  order  to 
bear  up  against  trials  and  discouragements  ;  and  many 
times,  when  you  know  nothing  of  it,  I  am  engaged  in  most 
distressing  inward  conflicts.  Now,  how  can  a  man  seem 
tender  and  affectionate,  at  such  a  time  ?  How  could  a 
soldier,  in  the  heat  of  battle,  stop  to  smile  upon  his  wife, 
or  kiss  his  children  ?  Even  if  he  spoke  to  them,  at  such 
a  time,  the  highly  raised  state  of  his  feelings  would,  prob- 
ably, give  something  like  sharpness  to  his  voice — But  I 
forbear  excuses.  Christ  was  tender  and  affectionate  in 
the  severest  agonies,  the  most  distressing  conflicts.  1  hope, 
if  I  am  ever  permitted  to  return,  you  will  find  me  a  little 
more  like  him,  than  I  have  been." 

There  is  a  general  wish  to  see  a  great  man  in  dishabille. 
A  single  extract  will  be  sufficient  to  gratify  this  wish.  It 
commences  with  an  allusion  to  his  sister,  who  had  then 
been  recently  married  to  Rev.  Asa  Rand,  formerly  of 
Gorham.  His  ironical  description  of  his  child's  talents 
may  possibly  do  something  to  correct  that  doating  partial- 
ity, which  leads  so  many  parents  to  think  their  own  chil- 
dren prodigies  of  genius. 


We  had  a  billet  from  Grata,  to-day.    She  writes 


344 


MEMOIR  OP 


that  she  is  happier  than  she  expected  to  be.  It  seems  just  as 
natural  to  her  to  be  married,  as  it  she  tiad  been  a  wife  these 
ten  years.  I  doubt  not  she  and  her  husband  wiJl  jog  on 
very  well  together  ;  though,  by  no  means  so  happily  as  L. 
and  I.  We  are  the  two  easiest  old  shoes  you  ever  saw, 
except  my  decaying  and  growing  old  so  last.  And  as  to 
baby,  she  is  to  be  the  greatest  genius  and  the  greatest 
beauty  in  these  parts.  I  could  easily  till  a  sheet  with 
proots  of  her  talents.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  she  has  four 
teeth  ;  stands  alone ;  says,  Pa'  and  Ma' ;  No — no — very 
stoutly,  and  has  been  whipped  several  times,  for  being 
wiser  than  her  father." 

With  a  heart  always  more  ready  to  confi-r  favors,  than 
to  receive  them,  his  condition  was,  very  frequently  such, 
that  he  needed  rather  "  to  be  ministered  unto,  than  to 
minister  ;"  but  the  most  agonizing  sufferings  of  body, 
when  exempted  from  depression  of  mind,  never  rendered 
him  the  less  cheerful  and  agreeable  husband  and  father. 
It  is  astonishing  how  '  lightly  he  esteemed  such  afflictions.' 
They  seemed  to  affect  him  almost  as  little,  as  violence  in- 
flicted on  a  block  or  a  stone.  His  demeanor  under  bodily 
agonies  has  often  been  such,  that  he  was  rather  envied,  than 
pitied  by  his  family  and  attendants.  These  were,  indeed, 
seasons  of  unusual  gaiety  and  cheerfulness.  He  has  left  a 
description  of  the  accumulated  evils,  that  were  crowded 
into  a  few  days,  into  which  his  playful  imagination  has 
thrown  so  much  of  humor,  as  to  divert  the  subject  of  its 
repulsive  character,  and  clothe  it  with  no  ordinary  attrac- 
tions. But  it  is  chiefly  interesting,  as  an  illustration  of  a 
happy  temper. 

 "  Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have  been  called  to  sing  of 

mercy  and  judgment.  My  old  friend,  the  sick  head-ache, 
has  favored  me  with  an  unusual  share  of  his  company  ; 
and  has  seemed  particularly  fond  of  visiting  me  on  the 
Sabbath.  Then  came  cholera  morl'us  ;  and  in  a  few 
hours,  reduced  me  so  low,  that  I  could  have  died  as  easily 
as  not.  Rheumatism  next  arrived,  eager  to  pay  his  re- 
spects ;  and  embraced  iny  ri.  ht  shoulder  with  such  ardor 
of  affection,  that  lie  l  ad  well  nigh  torn  it  from  its  socket. 
I  had  not  thought  much  of  this  gentleman's  powers  be- 


EDWARD  PAVSON. 


345 


fore  ;  but  he  has  convinced  me  of  them  so  thoroughly, 
that  I  shall  think  and  speak  of  them  with  respect,  as  long 
as  1  live.  Not  content  with  giving  me  his  company  all 
day,  for  a  fortnight  togetlier,  he  has  insisted  on  sitting  up 
with  me  every  night  ;  and,  what  is  worse,  made  me  sit  up 
too.  During  this  time,  my  poor  shoulder,  neck,  and  back, 
seemed  to  be  a  place,  in  which  the  various  pains  and  aches 
had  assembled  to  keep  holiday  ;  and  the  delectable  sensa- 
tions of  stinging,  pricking,  cutting,  lacerating,  wrenching, 
burning,  gnawing,  &c.,  succeeded  each  other,  oi  all  min- 
gled together  in  a  confusion,  that  was  far  from  being 
pleasing.  The  cross  old  gentleman,  though  his  zeal  is 
somewhat  abated  by  the  fomentations,  blisters,  &c.  with 
which  we  welcomed  him,  still  stands  at  my  back,  threat- 
ening that  he  will  not  allow  me  to  finish  my  letter. — But 
enough  of  him  and  his  companions.  Let  me  leave  them 
for  a  more  pleasing  theme. 

God  has  mercifully  stayed  his  rough  wind  in  the  day  of 
his  east  wind.  No  horrible,  hell-born  temptations,  nd 
iheumatism  of  the  mind  has  been  allowed  to  visit  me  in 
my  sufferings  ;  but  such  consolations,  such  heavenly  vis- 
its, as  turned  agony  into  pleasure,  and  constrained  me  to 
sing  aloud,  whenever  I  could  catch  my  breath  long  enough 
to  utter  a  stanza.  Indeed,  I  have  been  ready  to  doubt, 
whether  pain  be  really  an  evil  ;  for  though  more  pain  was 
crowded  into  iast  week,  than  any  other  week  oi"  my  Vuv, 
yet  it  was  one  of  the  happiest  weeks  I  ever  spent.  And 
now  I  am  ready  to  say.  Come  what  will  come, — sickness, 
pain,  agony,  poverty,  loss  of  friends — only  let  God  come 
with  them,  and  they  shall  be  welcome.  Praised,  blessed 
forever,  be  his  name,  for  all  my  trials  and  afflictions ! 
There  has  not  been  one  t  io  many — all  were  necessary  and 
good,  and  kind." 

How  perfectly  versed  was  he  in  the  heavenly  art  of  ex- 
tracting the  choicest  sweets  from  the  bitterest  cup  !  "honey 
out  of  the  rock,  and  oil  out  of  the  flinty  rock."  How  much 
an;7uish  niust  such  a  demeanor  under  sutierings  have  sa- 
ved "  the  partners  of  his  blood."  W  liat  rare  and  exqui- 
site enjoyment  must  it  have  imparted  t'  them,  to  wit- 
ness a  happiness,  which  the  calamities  of  life  could  not 
mar.    It  was  surely  an  enviable  privilege  to  enjoy  in- 


346 


MEMOIK  OF 


structions  rendered  so  emphatical  and  impressive  by  the 
circumstances  of  the  teacher. 

In  another  extract  may  be  seen  the  tender  yearnings  of 
a  father's  heart — a  heart,  nevertheless,  in  a  state  of  sweet 
subjection  to  "  the  Father  of  Spirits,  who  chasteneth  us 
for  our  profit,  that  we  may  be  partakers  of  his  holiness." 

May  13,  1816. 
"  Your  welcome  letter,  my  dear  mother,  has  just  arri- 
ved. You  would  pity  me,  if  you  knew  in  what  circum- 
stances I  sit  down  to  answer  it.  For  ten  days  I  have  been 
in  what  Dr.  Young  calls,  "the  po*t  of  observation,  dark- 
er every  hour."  Poor  little  Caroline  lies  before  me,  wri- 
thing under  the  agonies  of  dropsy  in  the  head.  The  phy- 
sicians have  given  her  over.  Louisa  sits  before  me,  mak- 
ing her  shroud  ;  yet  she  will  probably  live  a  week  longer, 
her  distress  increasing  every  day,  till  death  closes  it.  I 
thought  that  I  was  almost  without  natural  affection,  that 
I  did  not  love  my  children ;  but  I  find,  to  my  cost,  that 
I  do.  Her  distress  wrings  every  nerve  and  fibre  of  my 
heart.  If  you  have  ever  seen  a  person  die  of  this  dread- 
ful disorder,  I  need  not  describe  it.  If  you  have  not,  de- 
scription can  give  you  but  little  idea  of  it.  I  am,  howev- 
er, mercifully  spared  the  keener  distress  of  being  unre- 
conciled to  the  trial.  As  yet,  I  can  bless  the  name  of  the 
l,f»r<^  and  I  bless  him  that  I  can.  V/hether  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  feel  so  to  the  end,  he  only  knows.  It  is  painful 
to  see  her  suffer  for  ray  sins.  It  is  dreadful  to  think  of 
having  provoked  such  a  being,  as  God  is,  to  inflict  such 
sufferings. — But  it  is  right.  The  affliction  is  too  light,  as 
indeed,  every  affliction,  short  of  eternal  death,  would  be. 
I  find  a  great  difference  between  the  effect  of  suffering  m 
my  own  person,  and  in  thepeison  of  another.  Personal 
sufferings  seem  to  harden  the  heart,  and  make  me  selfish, 
so  that  I  can  feel  little  for  others.  They  will  drag  one's 
attention  home  to  himself  But  suffering  in  ti  e  person 
of  another,  seems  to  have  an  effect  directly  opposite,  and 
is,  therefore,  more  beneficial.  1  needed  some  sucii  trial, 
to  teach  me  how  to  sympathise  with  luy  people  in  similar 
circumstances." 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


347 


For  more  than  a  week  afterwards,  he  watched  this 
child,  "  struggling  between  life  and  death,"  the  victim 
of  complicated  diseases,  the  effects  of  which  it  would  be 
difficult  to  describe,  and  almost  congeal  one's  blood  to 
read.  Yet  he  was  calm  "  as  the  morning,  when  the  sun 
ariseth and  though  his  health  was  impaired  by  watch- 
ing, in  addition  to  his  other  labors,  he  says  of  this  season 
— "  It  has  been,  on  the  whole,  a  happy  week.  I  have 
been  unusually  iree  from  spiritual  trials ;  and  any  thing 
which  frees  me  from  them  is  a  blessing.  Be  not  distress- 
ed on  our  account.  We  are  happy,  and  can  sing,  "  sweet 
affliction,"  &/C.  I  would  not  but  have  had  it  on  any  ac- 
count." 

It  will  add  nothing  to  the  strength  of  the  impression 
produced  by  these  extracts,  to  say,  that  he  was  a  most  kind 
and  tender  husband,  a  most  faithful  and  affectionate  fa- 
ther ;  but  it  is  adding  something  to  their  import,  to  af- 
firm that,  in  him,  these  qualities  were  uniform,  and  man- 
ifested in  his  daily  intercourse  with  his  household. 

He  was  the  companion  of  his  children.  Not  unfre- 
quently  would  he  descend,  as  it  were,  to  their  level,  and 
mingle,  for  a  few  moments,  in  their  pastimes,  and  even 
invent  new  diversions  for  them  ;  particularly  such,  as 
would  call  forth  exertions  of  skill  and  ingenuity — so  that 
their  very  amusements  might  prove  a  profitable  exercise, 
and  contribute  to  the  developement  of  their  intellectual 
faculties.  Games  of  chance,  and  every  thing,  which  boie  a 
distant  resemblance  to  them,  he  utterly  disallowed.  Ilede- 
lighted  to  amuse  them  with  pictures — at  the  same  time 
pouring  into  their  minds  a  knowledge  of  the  arts,  or  of  his- 
torical characters,  or  of  geographical  and  statistical  facts, 
or  of  the  natural  history  of  animals,  or  whatever  else  would 
be  most  readily  suggested  by  the  picture. 

Often  would  he  entertain  his  children,  either  from  the 
stores  of  his  own  memory,  or  from  his  still  richer  inven- 
tion, with  tales  and  fables, — from  which  it  was  their  task 
to  deduce  the  moral,  as  an  exercise  of  their  perceptive 
and  reasoning  faculties,  in  pay  for  the  entertainment 
which  he  had  afforded  them.  If  they  failed,  he  would,  of 
course,  make  the  application  himself 

So  far  as  he  exerted  himself  for  the  intellectual  advance- 
ment of  his  children,  he  did  it  not  so  much  by  set  les- 


348 


MEMOIR  OF 


sons,  and  at  seasons  set  apart  for  that  purpose  exclusively, 
as  by  incidental  instructions.  There  were  many  days, 
when  his  engagements  left  him  no  time  to  meet  them,  ex- 
cept at  their  meals  ;  then — indeed  it  was  his  common 
practice — he  would  improve  the  time  spent  at  the  table  for 
this  purpose, — proposing  various  questions,  and  inviting 
inquiries  from  them,  always  leaving  them  with  a  subject 
for  consideration,  and  often  calling  upon  them,  at  night, 
to  mention  any  new  idea,  which  they  might  have  acquired 
during  the  day.  He  was  much  devoted  to  the  welfare  of 
his  children  ;  and  his  cares,  burdens  and  maladies  were 
oppressive  indeed,  when  they  did  not  share  a  father's  at- 
tentions. 

To  instruct  them  in  religion  was,  of  course,  his  first 
care.  Here,  also,  he  wisely  consulted  their  age  and  ca- 
pacities; and  imparted  it,  in  measure  and  kind,  as  they 
were  able  to  bear.  He  doubted  the  expediency  of  giving 
religious  instruction  only  at  stated  periods,  and  dealing  it 
out  with  parade  and  formality,  and  in  tedious  addresses. 
His  motto  was — "  Line  upon  line,  precept  upon  precept ; 
here  a  little,  and  there  a  little,"  as  occasion  offered,  or  the 
emergency  demanded. 

But  he  was  master,  as  well  as  father  ;  "  one  that  ruled 
well  his  own  house,  having  his  children  in  subjection  with 
all  gravity."  He  habitually  explained  his  commands  to 
such  of  his  children  as  were  of  sufficient  age  to  under- 
stand and  appreciate  them  ;  and  always  referred  to  the 
scriptures,  as  the  umpire,  from  whose  decisions  there 
was  no  appeal.  "  The  Bible  says  thus," — was  the  inva- 
riable and  ultimate  argument  for  enforcing  obedience. 
Appeals  of  this  kind  contribute  greatly  to  inspire  an  early 
reverence  for  the  sacred  book.  It  was  a  willing  obedi- 
ence, and  from  exalted  principles,  which  he  aimed  to 
secure. 

He  treated  his  servants  as  fellow  creatures — as  if  he  be- 
lieved, that  '  God  made  of  one  blood  all  the  people  that 
dwell  upon  the  earth' — as  if  he  expected  to  stand  with 
them  at  the  bar,  where  "  he  shall  have  judgment  without 
mercy,  who  hath  showed  no  mercy."  They  shared  his 
religious  instructions,  and  were  remembered  in  his 
prayers.  He  also  exacted  of  his  children,  as  an  inviola- 
ble duty,  kind  and  considerate  treatment  towards  the  do- 


EDVfARD  PAYSON. 


349 


mestics.  To  several  of  them  his  counsels  and  prayers 
were  blessed.  To  one,  who  had  been  anxious  ibr  her 
own  salvation  in  consequence  of  his  previous  hdelity,  and 
apparently  lost  her  impressions, — he  affectionately  said,  us 
she  entered  the  parlor,  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water — "  I 
hope  the  time  may  never  come,  when  you  will  long  for  a 
drop  of  that  water  to  cool  your  tongue."  It  was  a  word  in 
season — she  became  a  Christian.  Another  was  about  to 
leave  his  family  for  a  gay  circle,  with  the  prospect  of  en- 
tering a  new  relation,  from  which  he  apprehended  danger 
to  her  soul.  At  family  prayer,  the  last  time  she  was  expect- 
ed to  be  present,  he  prayed,  that  the  separation  might  not 
be  eternal.  The  petition  was  remembered — she  soon  re- 
turned to  her  service  in  his  family ;  exhibited  evidence 
of  conversion,  and  afterwards  died  in  faith. — This  tender- 
ness involved  no  sacrifice  of  dignity  or  authority  on  his 
part ;  nor  did  it  cause  insubordination  on  the  part  of  ser- 
vants, but  in  most  cases  a  more  willing  and  faitliful  service. 

In  his  family  devotions  he  was  never  tedious.  They  were 
always  impressive,  and  adapted  with  surprising  appropriate- 
ness to  the  existing  circumstances  of  the  household,  lie 
delighted  to  address  Jehovah  through  Christ,  as  his  God, 
by  covenant;  and  hence  he  derived  some  of  those  power- 
ful arguments  which  he  pleaded  in  intercession  Ibr  his 
children,  and  one  strong  ground  of  hope  that  God  would 
convert  and  save  them. 

To  obtain  any  adequate  conception  of  tlie  manner  in 
which  God  was  acknowledged  and  honored  in  his  habita- 
tion, recourse  must  be  had,  as  in  other  instances,  to  his 
own  language. 

April,  1816. 

 "  Another  precious  passage  is  that  in  Zechariah, 

"  In  that  day  shall  there  be  upon  the  bells  of  the  horses, 
holiness  to  the  Lord,"  &-C.  I  preached  on  it  lately  ;  and 
among  other  things  observed,  that,  in  that  day,  every  ac- 
tion would  be  performed  as  the  most  solemn  religious  du- 
ties are  now ;  every  house  and  place  would  be  a  temple  ; 
every  day  like  a  Sabbath  ;  and  every  meal  like  the  Lord's 
Supper.  We  have  since  been  trying  to  have  the  prophe- 
cy fulfilled  at  our  house ;  and  though  we  succeed  misera- 
bly enough,  yet  the  bare  attempt  has  given  us  a  happiness 


35U 


MKilOIR  OF 


unknown  before.  One  thing,  which  has  been  greatly 
blessed  to  us,  is,  having  family  prayer,  at  noon,  as  well  as 
morning  and  evening.  It  showed  us  how  far  we  often 
get  from  God,  during  the  day,  even  when  we  begin  and 
close  it  with  him.  In  some  families,  this  would  be  im- 
possible ;  and  then  half  an  hour  spent  alone  would  an- 
swer the  purpose  as  well.  I  find  it  requires  almost  con- 
stant rubbing  and  chafing,  to  make  the  blood  circulate,  in 
such  frozen  souls  as  ours  ;  and,  after  all,  it  avails  nothing, 
if  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  does  not  shine." 

Dr.  Payson  was  the  father  of  eight  children,  two  of 
whom,  a  son  and  a  daughter,  he  followed  to  the  grave. 
Six  survive  him,  two  daughters  and  four  sons. 

Many  persons  were  honored  with  a  large  share  of  Dr. 
Payson's  confidence  ;  but  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  he 
ever  poured  out  all  the  feelings  of  his  bosom  to  any,  be- 
yond his  nearest  relations,  if,  indeed,  he  did  to  any  be- 
sides his  God.  It  required  a  reach  of  sympathy,  beyond 
what  man  is  ordinarily  capable  of  e.\ercising,  to  enter 
deeply  into  his  experience.  He  could  not  bring  himself 
to  tell  of  the  peculiar  agonies  or  raptures,  which  by  turns 
tortured  and  blessed  him,  to  any  heart,  that  could  not  send 
back  a  response.  And  where,  almost,  could  that  heart 
be  found  ?  And  in  this,  the  writer,  while  tracing  his  re- 
ligious experience,  has  often  thought  he  was  justified  by 
the  example  of  Paul,  after  his  rapture.  Still,  while  there 
were  secrets  in  his  own  bosom  of  too  sacred  a  character 
to  be  made  common  by  participation,  his  intercourse  with 
bis  flock,  individually,  was  that  of  a  highly  endearing, 
tender,  and  confioential  friendship.  "  If  there  were  ever 
a  minister" — these  are  his  own  words — "  blessed  with  a 
kind  and  faithful  people,  I  am.  If  I  were  not  so  often 
sick,  I  should  be  too  happy.  When  I  come  into  my  con- 
gregation, I  feel  as  a  father,  surrounded  by  his  children. 
I  do  not  feel  as  though  there  were  an  ill-disposed  person 
among  them.  I  can  throw  off  my  armor,  without  fearing 
that  an  enemy  is  there  with  a  dagger  ready  to  stab  me." 
Their  affection  was  most  fully  and  faithfully  reciprocated. 
Never  did  a  minister  more  ardently  love  his  charge,  or 
enter  with  greater  facility  into  all  their  interests  and  feel- 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


ings.  When  any  of  them  were  visited  with  calamity,  lie 
was  among  the  very  first  to  tender  his  sympathy  ;  and  al- 
xvays  left  them  "  lightened."  In  listening  to  his  conver- 
sation and  prayers,  the  burden  would  often  fall  off. 

"  Beside  the  bed,  where  parting  life  was  laid, 
And  sorrow,  guilt,  and  pain,  by  turns  dismayed" — 

he  was,  at  once,  faithful  and  tender  ;  and  if 

"  Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul," 

it  was  because  it  had  been  pointed  to  the  '  smitten  Rock,' 
to  the  "  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the 
world." 

"  Comfort  came  down,  the  trembling  wretch  to  raise  ; 
And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise." 

He  was  eminently  susceptible  of  gratitude.  A  favor, 
which  would  be  received  with  a  very  summary  acknowl- 
edgment by  many,  would  make  his  "  shoulders  ache  un- 
der the  load  of  obligation  that  was  laid  upon  them."  And 
if  he  '  bore  it  pretty  well,  it  was  because  nothing  renders 
a  man  so  careless  about  increasing  his  debts,  as  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  shall  never  be  able  to  pay.' 

Economy  was  a  very  noticeable  feature  in  his  character. 
It  was  a  principle  with  him  to  spend  nothing  merely  for 
ornament.  The  money  which  came  into  his  possession 
he  regarded  as  a  talent,  for  which  he  was  accountable  ; 
and  so  scrupulous  was  he,  as  to  the  disposition  which  he 
made  of  it,  that  he  is  thought  to  have  regarded  some  things 
as  forbidden  luxuries,  which  would  have  been  for  his  wel- 
fare. In  his  furniture,  in  his  apparel,  and  that  of  his 
household,  and  in  the  provisions  of  his  table,  there  was  a 
plainness  and  a  simplicity,  well  becoming  a  man  profess- 
ing and  teaching  Godliness.  Co.inected  with  this  quali- 
ty was  a  noble  generosity  of  soul.  He  did  not  save  to 
hoard,  but  to  bless  others.  He  did  not  love  money  for  its 
own  sake  ;  and  so  obvious  to  all  was  his  disinterestei'ness, 
that,  so  far  as  is  known,  he  never  fell  under  the  charge 
or  even  the  suspicion  of  being  avaricious.  If  the  tempo- 
ral or  spiritual  necessities  of  his  fellow  creatures  demand- 
ed relief,  his  money  was  as  free  for  their  use,  as  a  cup  of 
cold  water.    He  had  declined  purchasing  an  article  of 


352 


MEMOIR  OF 


convenience  for  the  family,  one  morning,  because,  as  it 
was  not  absolutely  necessary,  he  thought  they  could  not 
afford  it.  The  same  day  he  gave  ten  dollars  to  a  woman 
in  reduced  circumstances,  who  called  at  his  house.  At 
another  time,  he  said  to  his  church,  who  had  handed  in 
their  contribution  of  fifty  or  sixty  dollars,  for  foreign  mis- 
sions— "  I  am  ashamed  to  send  so  small  a  sum,  and  shall 
forward  one  hundred  dollars,  as  your  contribution  ;  and 
you  may  act  your  pleasure  about  indemnifying  me." 
These  are  only  instances  out  of  a  multitude  ;  the  same 
liberality  characterized  him  as  long  as  he  lived.  He  con- 
tinued to  give,  till  after  he  was  unable  to  put  his  name  to 
a  subscription  paper.  It  was  with  reluctance  that  he  re- 
ceived from  his  people  what  they  were  forward  to  give  as 
a  compensation  for  his  services.  He  never  would  have 
possessed  a  dwelling  house  in  fee,  if  his  people  had  waited 
for  his  consent.  Acting  according  to  the  impulse  of  their 
own  liberality,  and  their  convictions  of  what  was  due  to 
him,  they  purchased,  and  secured  to  him  by  deed  a  house 
more  spacious  than  he  would  have  chosen  ;  and  this  was 
all  his  property,  beyond  actual  expenditures,  which  he 
did  not  give  away. 

In  this  connection  a  document  will  be  introduced,  con- 
taining a  request,  such  as  it  would  be  equally  honorable 
to  ministers  and  people,  if  there  were  more  frequent  occa- 
sion for. 

"  To  the  members  of  the  Second  Parish  in  Portland,  in 
parish  meeting  assembled — 

"  Gentlemen, 

"  It  is  a  circumstance,  which  claims  my  thankful  ac- 
knowledgements, and  of  which  I  hope  ever  to  retain  a 
grateful  recollection,  that,  while  many  ministers  are  con- 
strained to  ask,  and  perhaps  ask  in  vain,  for  an  increase 
of  salary,  the  only  request  relative  to  a  support,  which  I 
have  ever  had  occasion  to  present  to  you,  is,  that  my  sal- 
ary may  be  diminished.  Such  a  request,  you  will  recol- 
lect, I  made  through  the  medium  of  one  of  the  parish  at 
your  last  annual  meeting ;  but  your  kindness  and  liberal- 
ity prevented  you  from  complying  with  it.  I  now  repeat 
that  request  in  writing.    The  salary,  which  you  voted 


EDWAUD  PAYSON. 


^53 


me  at  the  time  of  my  settlement,  is  amply  sufficient  for 
my  support ;  and  more  than  this  I  am  unwilling  to  re- 
ceive, for  I  can  never  consent  to  acquire  wealth  by 
preaching  the  gospel  of  Christ.  Permit  me  then,  re- 
spectfully, but  earnestly  to  request  that  the  addition  which, 
you  have  so  generously  made  to  my  salary,  the  last  two 
years,  may  be  discontinued. 

"  That  the  Master,  whom  I  serve,  may  repay  all  your 
kindness  to  his  servant,  is  the  first  wish  and  most  earn- 
est prayer  of 

Your  deeply  indebted  and  grateful  pastor, 

EDWARD  PAYSON." 

Portland,  April  27,  1821. 

In  the  same  spirit,  after  his  last  sickness  had  made 
such  inroads  upon  his  strength,  as  almost  wholly  to  dis- 
qualify him  for  exertion,  he  dictated  the  following  com- 
munication : 

"  April  27,  1827. 

*'  To  the  members  of  the  Second  Congregational  Church 
in  Portland,  in  parish  meeting  assembled — 

"  Brethren  and  Friends, 

"  Of  the  kindness  and  generosity  with  which  you 
have  invariably  treated  me,  ever  since  I  became  your 
pastor,  and  e.specially  since  the  commencement  of  my 
present  indisposition,  I  am  deeply  sensible.  Nor  have 
you  given  me  the  smallest  reason  to  suppose,  that  your 
kindness  is  exhausted,  or  even  diminished.  But  I  must 
not  allow  myself  to  encroach  upon  it  too  far.  It  is  my 
indispensable  duty  to  prefer  your  spiritual  welfare  tn  every 
personal  consideration.  If  I  have  reason  to  believe  that 
your  religious  interests  would  be  promoted  by  a  dissolu- 
tion of  the  connection  between  us,  it  is  incumbent  on  me 
to  request,  that  it  may  be  dissolved ;  and  to  retire  from  a 
station,  the  duties  of  which  I  am  no  longer  able  to  per- 
form. And  have  I  not  reason  to  believe,  that  such  is  the 
fact?  With  the  present  state  of  my  health,  you  are  suffi- 
ciently acquainted.  It  has  already  occasioned  you  niuch 
trouble  and  expense.  You  have  waited  a  reasonable  time 
for  its  restoration  ;  and  the  probability  that  it  will  ever  be 
30* 


354 


MEMOIR  OF 


restored,  is  by  no  means  great.  It  is  highly  important 
that  such  a  Society  as  this  should  enjoy  the  services  of  a 
minister,  who  possesses  a  vigorous  constitution,  firm 
health  and  ministerial  qualifications  of  the  first  order  ; 
and  the  salary  which  it  gives,  entitles  it  to  expect,  and 
will  enable  it  to  command  the  services  of  such  a  minister. 
In  view  of  these  circumstances  I  feel  a  prevailing  persua- 
sion, that  it  is  my  duty  to  propose  a  dissolution  of  the 
connection  between  us,  and  to  request  you  to  unite  with 
me  in  calling  a  council  for  the  purpose  of  dissolving  it. 
Such  a  proposition  and  request  I  now  submit  to  you. 

"  That  on  this  and  every  other  occasion  you  may  be 
guided  by  that  wisdom  which  is  from  above,  and  led  to 
the  adoption  of  such  measures,  as  shall  be  most  condu- 
cive to  the  glory  of  God,  and  your  own  best  interests,  is 
the  prayer  of 

Your  affectionate  friend  and  pastor, 

EDWARD  PAYSON." 

This  request  was  received  and  treated  in  a  manner  most 
honorable  to  the  parish.  Their  reply  to  it  expressed  the 
most  '  deep  and  affectionate  sympathy  with  their  much 
esteemed  pastor,  and  a  sense  of  their  high  obligations  for 
the  very  valuable  services,  which  a  kind  Providence  had 
permitted  and  enabled  him  to  perform  for  a  long  course 
of  years  ;  and  appreciating  his  present  services,  much  as 
they  were  interrupted  and  curtailed  by  sickness,  of  para- 
mount value  and  interest  to  them,  they  did  respectfully 
solicit  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  withdraw  his  request ; 
and  thus  permit  them  to  hope,  that,  whatever  might  be  the 
state  of  his  health  in  future,  they  should  enjoy  the  benefit 
of  his  counsel  and  prayers,  till  he  was  called  to  receive  the 
reward  prepared  for  the  faithflil  servants  of  Christ ' — 
With  these  wishes,  so  affectionately  and  gratefully  ex- 
pressed, he  complied  ;  and  continued,  in  such  ways  as  he 
could,  to  advance  their  spiritual  interests,  till  removed  by 
the  undoubted  will  of  God. 

But  there  are,  in  the  lives  of  eminently  faithful  minis- 
ters, events  of  another  character,  which  it  is  painful  to 
narrate,  and  yet  which  ought  not  to  be  passed  over  in  si- 
lence. The  hostility  which  they  sometimes  experience, 
illustrates  the  depravity  of  mankind,  and  confirms  the  au- 


EnWARD  PATSON. 


355 


ihority  of  scripture  by  evincing  the  truth  of  the  declara- 
tion,— "If any  man  will  live  Godly  in  Christ  Jesus,  he 
shall  suffer  persecution."  We  need  not  be  surprised,  there- 
fore, that  Dr.  Pay  son  should  have  been  wickedly  assailed 
in  his  character,  as  a  preacher  of  a  kindred  spirit  was  as- 
sailed before  him.  It  is  related  of  Richard  Baxter,  that 
when  he  was  shaking  the  strong  holds  of  error  and  iniqui- 
ty at  Kidderminster,  a  drunken  slanderer  reported  con- 
cerning him,  that  he  had  been  seen  under  a  tree  with  a 
profligate  woman,  and  thus  he  was  made  "  the  song  of  the 
drunkards."  But  the  defamer,  being  brought  into  court, 
was  obliged  to  explain,  that  he  had  only  seen  Mr.  Baxter, 
on  a  rainy  day,  on  horseback  under  an  oak,  which  grew 
in  a  hedge,  while  a  woman  was  standing  for  shelter  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hedge. — A  still  heavier  charge  had  been 
brought  against  one  of  his  predecessors  at  Kidderminster, 
the  Rev.  John  Cross.  A  wicked  woman  had  been  hired 
to  bring  the  charge  ;  but  Mr.  Cross,  at  her  examination, 
placed  himself  amongst  the  magistrates,  dressed  as  they 
were  ;  and  when  she  was  asked,  if  one  of  them  was  the 
man,  she  looked  at  them  and  said,  No  ;  and  thus  her  mal- 
ice was  defeated. 

A  wicked  woman  once  brought  against  Dr.  Payson  an 
accusation  under  circumstances,  which  seemed  to  render 
it  impossible  that  he  should  escape.  She  was  in  the  same 
packet,  in  which,  many  months  before,  he  had  gone  to 
Boston.  For  a  time,  it  seemed  almost  certain  that  his 
character  would  be  ruined.  He  was  cut  off  from  all  re- 
source, except  the  throne  of  grace.  He  felt,  that  his  only 
help  was  in  God  ;  and  to  him  he  addressed  his  fervent 
prayer.  He  was  heard  by  the  Defender  of  the  innocent. 
A  '  compunctious  visiting'  induced  the  wretched  woman 
to  confess,  that  the  whole  was  a  malicious  slander. 

He  was  such  a  "  terror  to  evil  doers,"  that  they  seemed 
bent  on  destroying  his  reputation  ;  and  multiplied  their 
malicious  slanders,  till  they  ceased  to  gain  any  credence 
even  with  the  vilest.  "  It  can't  be  true" — said  an  opposer, 
respecting  a  base  calumny  of  Dr.  Payson.    "  No" — said 

another,  "  but  I  would  give   dollars,  if  it  were." 

When  these  cruel  and  malicious  designs  upon  his  charac- 
ter proved  abortive,  their  enmity  manifested  itself  in  other 
forma.    He  once  alludes  to  this  opposition  in  his  letters 


356 


MEM/)IR  OF 


It  was  in  a  year  eminently  distinguished  by  God's  blessing 
on  his  labors. 

July  4,  1816. 

 "  Enemies  rage  most  terribly.    You  have  probably 

seen  in  the  papers  an  account  of  the  attempt  to  burn  our 
meeting-house.     We  have  not  discovered  the  author  ; 

hut  there  is  no  doubt  that  are  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

It  was  little  less  than  a  miracle,  that  the  house  was  not 
burnt,  with  many  others.  Never,  since  I  have  been  here, 
has  the  enmity  of  the  heart  been  permitted  to  rage,  as  it 
does  now.  Every  one,  except  my  own  people,  seems  ready 
to  curse  me  ;  and  I  am  weary  of  living  in  continual 
strife  !" 

The  good  man,  at  length,  found  rest  from  this  strife. 
He  came  out  of  every  trial  untarnished — yea,  the  brighter 
for  the  ordeal.  No  charge  could  be  sustained  against  him, 
but  such  as  was  urged  against  the  prophet  in  Babylon  ; 
and  the  ultimate  issue  was  not,  perhaps,  essentially  differ- 
ent. It  was,  increased  respect  for  him,  and  veneration  for 
bis  God. 


EDWARO  PAVbON. 


357 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Further  particulars  relating  to  his  personal  history,  and 
religious  exercises,  in  connection  with  his  pastoral  labors 
and  their  results. 

It  was  not  thought  desirable  to  interrupt  a  description 
«f  "  the  pastor  in  action,"  by  frequent  references  to  dates ; 
or  to  pay  any  special  regard  to  chronological  order  in  a 
rehearsal  of  scenes  and  employments,  which  were  more  or 
less  common  to  every  year  of  his  ministry.  In  this  chap- 
ter, however,  that  order  is  resumed  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
tinuing the  history  of  his  religious  experience  through  the 
various  occurrences  and  vicissitudes  of  liis  life.  The  par- 
ticulars will  be  given  almost  entirely  in  his  own  language, 
and  in  insulated  extracts,  which  will  be  found,  however, 
to  possess  the  principal  advantages  of  a  connected  narra- 
tive, besides  several  others,  which  no  second-hand  state- 
ments could  secure.  They  were  sketched  at  the  time, 
and  have  the  vividness  of  first  impressions  in  view  of  truths 
and  facts,  as  they  were  successively  brought  under  notice, 
while  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  penned  are  a 
sufficient  guarantee  of  their  accuracy.  The  articles  of 
intelligence  and  modes  of  elucidating  and  enforcing  truth, 
which  are  interspersed,  will  enhance  their  value  ;  while 
they  will  enable  the  reader  to  view  the  subject  of  this 
memoir  in  a  greater  variety  of  attitudes,  and  to  learn  his 
exercises  and  feelings  in  numerous  circumstances — in 
prosperity,  and  under  the  rod  ;  when  borne  along  on  the 
full  tide  of  success,  and  when  thwarted  at  every  step  ; 
when  religion  was  triumphant,  and  when  "  the  ways  of 
Zion  mourned." 

"  Portland,  June  14, 1813. 

"  Mv  DEAR  Mother, 

"  We  arrived  here  last  Friday,  in  safety,  and  found 
every  thing  had  been  preserved  by  our  Merciful  Protector 


358 


MEMOIR  OF 


We  very  soon  had  reason  to  acknowledge  how  much  his 
protection  is  superior  to  ours  ;  for  the  very  night  after  our 
return,  our  garden  was  laid  waste. 

"  For  a  few  days  after  niy  return  I  was  exceedingly  un- 
well, and  there  seemed  less  prospect  of  my  continuing  in 
the  ministry  than  ever.  In  addition,  I  was  more  severely 
exercised  with  spiritual  trials,  than  I  have  been  for  two 
years  past ;  so  that  the  five  days  succeeding  my  return 
were,  perhaps,  as  dark,  as  any  five  days  that  I  ever  expe- 
rienced. But  now,  blessed  be  God,  the  scene  has  won- 
derfully changed.  For  three  days,  I  have  felt  something 
more  like  health,  than  I  have  enjoyed  for  years  ;  some- 
thing of  that  spring  and  elasticity  of  spirit,  which  used  to 
render  life  tolerable,  and  exertion  pleasant.  How  long  it 
will  continue,  I  know  not.  It  seems  too  good  to  last.  I 
see,  however,  already,  that  if  the  burden  of  sickness  is  to 
be  removed,  some  other  burden,  perhaps  a  worse  one  must 
be  imposed  in  its  place.  I  am  ready  to  run  wild  with  the 
pleasure  of  not  feeling  pain ;  though  even  now,  I  am  not 
altogether  free  from  it. — If  my  health  should  be  restored, 
I  shall  consider  it  as  little  less  than  a  miracle  ;  and  shall 
feel  as  if  your  deafness  may  be  removed.  Indeed,  I  think 
it  will  strengthen  my  faith,  as  much  as  it  will  my  body. 
It  will  also  remove  some  spiritual  difficulties  and  doubts, 
which  have  been  a  terrible  hindrance  to  me  in  my  race, 
and  given  unbelief  more  advantage  over  me,  than  all  oth- 
er things  united. — But  how  I  ramble  ! 

"  We  have  little  encouraging  of  a  religious  nature, 
though  the  church  are,  I  believe,  much  engaged.  They 
ought  to  be  ;  for  I  find  that  "  Portland  Christians"  have, 
at  least,  a  name  to  live  at  the  westward  ;  a  better  name,  I 
fear,  than  they  will  ere  long  deserve,  even  if  they  merit  it 
now." 

Sept.  12,  1814. 

 "  J  engaged  to  go  on  a   mission,  if  my  people 

would  consent ;  but  they  will  not  hear  of  it.  The  church 
would  consent,  but  the  parish  will  not.  You  will  learn 
from  the  newspapers,  that  we  are  in  a  state  of  alarm  here, 
or  I  should  say  nothing  of  it.  Ever  since  our  return,  the 
streets  have  been  filled  with  wagons,  fii-c.  carrying  goods 
out  of  town,  and  the  alarm  continues  and  increases.  We 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


359 


had  hoped  to  have  a  quiet  Sabbath,  yesterday ;  but  in  the 
morning,  the  Chairman  of  the  committee  of  public  safety 
called  and  informed  me,  that  the  Committee  had  issued  a 
handbill,  requiring  all  the  male  citizens  to  work,  through 
the  day,  on  the  fortifications,  and  staling  that  the 
usual  religious  services  of  the  day  must  be  dispensed  with. 
With  this  order  our  church  absolutely  refused  to  comply, 
and  we  had  divine  service  both  parts  of  the  day,  as  usu- 
al, and  a  considerably  large  congregation.  This  morn- 
ing, all  is  bustle  and  confusion  through  the  town.  We 
have  sent  a  few  things  to  Gorham  ;  and,  in  case  of  an  at- 
tack, we  can  pack  into  the  chaise  and  follow.  You  have 
no  reason  to  entertain  the  smallest  fears  for  our  personal 
safety.  In  ten  minutes,  after  an  alarm  is  given,  we  can 
be  safe  out  of  town. — The  church  seem  to  feel  in  some 
measure,  as  I  could  wish.  Strong  confidence  in  God, 
mingled  with  a  deep  sense  of  ill-de.sert  and  submission  to 
his  will,  is  displayed  by  them.  They  have  a  prayer  meet- 
ing, every  evening;  and,  next  Thursday,  if  circumstan- 
ces permit,  we  are  to  have  a  fast.  At  our  house,  ail  is 
still  and  quiet.  We  hear  little  of  the  noise,  and  have 
slept  undisturbed  every  night,  till  the  last. — I  cannot 
think  we  are  in  much  danger.  Not  that  great  depend- 
ance  is  to  be  placed  in  our  means  of  defence  ;  but  I  can- 
not think  God  means  to  destroy  this  place.  We  needed 
something  to  rou.se  us,  and  to  remind  us  that  we  were 
engaged  in  war,  and  to  excite  us  to  pray  for  the  removal 
of  God's  judgments  ;  and  this  effect  the  alarm  has,  I  trust, 
produced.  It  tends  powerfully  to  wean  us  from  the 
world  ;  so  that,  thus  far,  it  has  been  a  mercy.  ' 

"Nov.  14,  1814. 

 "  We  are  going  on  as  well  as  can  be  expected.  L. 

is  well ;  little  L.  better  than  for  a  year  past ;  my  own  health 
slowly,  but  gradually,  improving.  Our  souls,  too,  I  hope, 
are  not  quite  so  far  from  prospering  and  being  in  health, 
as  they  have  been  ;  the  church  are  reviving,  and  there 
are  many  hopeful  appearances  in  the  parish.  But  the 
best  of  all  is,  that  we  seem  to  be  waking  up  in  this  part 
of  the  country,  as  well  as  in  others,  to  the  state  of  public 
morals.  Delegates  from  nineteen  towns  in  this  vicinity 
met  in  this  town,  last  week,  and  adopted  a  number  of 


360 


MEMOIR  or 


measures  to  secure  the  proper  observance  of  the  Sabbath, 
A  similar  meeting  for  the  county  of  Lincohi,  is  to  be  held, 
this  week,  at  Wiscasset.  These  things,  and  others  of  a 
similar  nature,  of  which  I  hear  abroad,  almost  lead  me  to 
cry,  with  old  Simeon — "  Let  thy  servant  depart  in  peace, 
for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation  !"  We  shall  yet  see 
peace  upon  our  Israel ;  and  I  have  very  little  doubt,  that, 
after  the  war  ceases,  we  shall  have  greater  revivals  through 
the  land,  than  we  have  ever  yet  seen.  It  was  harder  to 
do  what  has  been  done,  both  in  the  world  and  among  us, 
than  to  do  what  remains.  The  wheel  is  now  in  motion, 
and  will  be  kept  so  with  comparative  ease.  It  is  a  glori- 
ous day  to  live  in  !  So  much  to  be  done  ;  so  much  to  be 
prayed  for ;  so  much  to  be  seen.  I  was  wrong  in  saying, 
I  wished  to  depart  in  peace.  1  wish  to  stay,  and  see,  and 
do  a  little  more  I  would  not  now  exchange  a  place  in 
the  church  below,  even  for  a  place  in  heaven.  The  long- 
er our  time  of  labor  is,  the  better.  There  will  be  time 
enough  for  rest. 

"  Dr.  died  last  week.  I  saw  him  repeatedly,  dur- 
ing his  illness  ;  but  not  a  word  of  a  religious  nature  did 
he  utter  ;  and,  I  am  told,  he  said  as  little  to  others.  He 
was  a  minister  upwards  of  fifty  years.  What  a  meeting  it 
must  be,  when  a  pastor  meets  all  who  have  died  under  his 
ministry,  during  so  many  years  ;  especially,  if  he  has  nev- 
er faithfully  warned  them  ! 

"  Our  people  feel  the  consequences  of  the  war  very 
much.  I  am  astonished  to  see  how  well  they  continue  to 
pay  my  salary  ;  and  still  more,  to  see  how  liberally  they 
give  to  every  proper  object.  Their  deep  poverty  serves 
to  set  off  the  riches  of  their  liberality.  If  they  were 
like  many  congregations,  I  should  soon  be  turned  out. 
Many,  however,  have  moved  away,  on  account  of  the  war  ; 
and  if  it  continues,  the  rest  must  follow.  However,  we 
serve  a  good  Master  ;  and  while  he  has  work  for  us  to  do, 
he  will  feed  us.  I  rejoice  to  learn,  that  you  find  "  the  joy 
of  the  Lord  your  strength."  It  is  strength  indeed.  I 
hope  my  father  finds  as  much  reason  to  rejoice  in  the  pro- 
gress of  reformation  in  New-Hampshire,  as  we  do  here." 


June  2,  1815. 
 "  I  shall  not  be  able  to  visit  Rindge,  this  summer. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


3G1 


Journeying  does  me  so  little  good,  and  I  have  been  ab- 
sent so  long,  that  I  shall  not  dare  to  think  of  it,  at  present- 
Were  it  possible,  I  would  come  about  the  time  of  the  or- 
dination of  the  missionaries,  at  Newburyport,  to  which 
our  church  is  invited  ;  but  I  fear  it  will  not  be. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  poor  ,  but  my  sorrow  is  mitigated, 

if  not  removed,  by  reflecting,  that  if  he  is  a  Christian,  all 
things  are  working  for  his  good  ;  and  if  he  is  not,  an  ed- 
ucation will  do  him  more  harm  than  good.  I  have  grown 
quite  hard  hearted,  as  it  respects  the  trials  of  Christians. 
I  scarcely  pity  them  at  all,  while  under  the  rod,  though  I 
am  sorry  we  all  need  it  so  much.  However  I  sympathize 
with  you,  my  dear  mother,  in  your  want  of  hearing.  It 
is  a  grievous  trial ;  and  if,  as  you  intimate,  frequent  letters 
would  in  any  degree,  mitigate  it,  I  will  strive  to  write 
oftener. — I  trust  our  revival  has  not  ceased  ;  though  it 
will  not,  I  fear,  prove  so  extensive  as  I  at  first  hoped." 

Sept.  7,  1815. 

 "  Do  not  feel  anxious  about  me.    I  am,  you  know, 

in  good  hands  ;  in  better  hands  than  yours  ;  and  when 
you  consider  how  good  God  has  been  to  me,  you  can  have 
no  reason  to  fear  that  he  will  deal  with  me  otherwise  than 
well. 

I  have  little  to  write  respecting  our  situation  in  a  reli- 
gious view,  that  is  encouraging  ;  but  things  look  promis- 
ing in  many  other  places,  at  a  distance.  You  have  heard 
of  the  revivals  at  Litchfield  and  New-Haven.  An  account 
of  these  revivals,  read  in  Rowley,  has  occasioned  the  com- 
mencement of  a  similar  work  there,  which  promises  to 
become  extensive.    There  is  also  considerable  attention 

among  the  students  in  Academy  ;  and  a  letter  which 

I  have  just  received  from  a  gentleman  in  Baltimore,  in- 
forms me,  that  there  is  a  revival  in  an  Academy  in  that 
vicinity,  and  in  two  or  three  other  places.  It  certainly 
appears  more  and  more  probable,  that  God  is  about  to 
work  wonders  in  most  of  our  Seminaries  of  learning ,  and 
if  so,  who  can  calculate  the  blessed  effects,  which  will  be 
the  result? 

"  The  revolution  in  Dartmouth  College  makes  a  great 


31 


362 


MEMOIR  OK 


noise  here.  Losing  Mr.  Brown  will  be  a  grievous  blow  to 
me.  I  think  the  Trustees  could  hardly  have  made  a  bet- 
ter choice." 

On  perusing  the  following,  it  is  difficult  to  repress  a 
wish,  that  the  writer  had  been  under  the  necessity  of 
"  fitting  up  a  house,"  every  year. 

Portland,  Nov.  1,  1815. 

"My  dear  Mother, 

"  I  fear  you  will  think  me  very  negligent  in  delaying 
so  long  to  answer  your  letter  ;  but  I  have  an  excuse  ready. 
We  have  been  moving,  and  repairing  our  house,  and  I 
have  been  almost  incessantly  engaged,  night  and  day. 
We  have  had  half  a  score  of  workmen  in  the  house,  and 
I  have  been  obliged  to  superintend  and  work  with  them  ; 
and  this,  in  addition  to  parochial  duties,  has  so  hurried  me, 
that  I  have  scarcely  had  time  to  eat.  You  will  be  glad 
to  hear,  that  my  cares  and  labors  have  had  a  very  benefi- 
cial effect  with  respect  tomy  healtii,  so  that  I  have  gained 
more  in  fourteen  days,  than  in  as  many  months  previous. 
I  have  also  enjoyed  a  much  higher  degree  of  spiritual 
health,  than  usual  ;  and  have  had  many  special  mercies 
both  of  a  temporal  and  religious  nature,  so  that  I  have 
seldom  passed  six  happier  weeks,  than  the  last.  Our 
house  proves  much  more  convenient  than  we  expected  ; 
and  we  have  seen  much  of  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
God,  in  bringing  us  into  it.  It  is  the  same  house,  in  which 
I  formerly  boarded,  when  preceptor  ;  in  which  I  spent 
some  months  in  folly  and  sin  ;  and  in  which  I  received 
the  news  of  Charles's  death,  and  began  to  turn  my  atten- 
tion to  religion.  These  circumstances  give  it  an  interest 
of  a  peculiar  kind,  and  furnish  matter  for  many  humbling, 
many  mournful,  and  not  a  few  thankful  and  profitable  re- 
flections. O,  what  a  Master  do  I  serve  !  I  have  known 
nothing,  felt  nothing,  all  my  days,  even  in  comparison 
with  what  I  now  see  in  him.  Never  was  preaching  such 
sweet  work,  as  it  is  now.  Never  did  the  world  seem  such 
a  nothing  ;  never  did  heaven  appear  so  near,  .so  sweet, 
so  overwhelmingly  glorious  ....  God's  promises  appear 
so  strong,  so  solid,  so  real,  so  substantial, — more  so  than 
the  rocks  and  everlasting  hills  ;  and  his  perfections, — 


F.DVVAUO  PAYbON. 


363 


what  shall  I  say  of  them  1  When  I  think  of  one,  I  wish 
to  dwell  upon  it  forever  ;  but  another,  and  another,  equal- 
ly glorious,  claims  a  share  of  admiration  ;  and  when  I 
begin  to  praise,  I  wish  never  to  cease,  but  have  it  tlie 
commencement  of  that  song,  which  will  never  end.  Very 
often  have  I  felt  as  if  I  could,  that  moment,  throw  off  the 
body,  without  staying  to  "  first  go,  and  bid  them  farewell 
that  are  at  home  in  my  house."  Let  who  will  be  rich,  or 
admired,  or  prosperous, — it  is  enough  for  me  that  there 
is  such  a  God  as  Jehovah,  such  a  Saviour  as  Jesus,  and 
that  they  are  infinitely,  and  unchangeably  glorious  and 
happy  !" 

The  year,  1816,  was  the  most  remarkably  distinguished 
for  the  effusions  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  his  people,  of  any 
year  of  his  ministry,  with  the  exception  of  that  in  which 
his  happy  spirit  took  its  flight,  when  he  preached  so  much 
from  the  bed  of  death.  This  fact  the  reader  will  regard 
as  a  striking  commentary  on  the  subjoined  extracts  from 
his  Diary. 

"  Dec,  16. — Since  the  last  date,  I  have  passed  through 
a  greater  variety  of  scenes  and  circumstances,  than  in 
almost  any  period  of  equal  length  in  my  whole  life,  and 
have  experienced  severer  sufierings,  conflicts,  and  disap- 
pointments. Some  time  in  February,  I  began  to  hope 
for  a  revival  ;  and  after  much  prayer  for  direction,  and, 
as  I  thought,  with  confidence  in  God,  I  took  some  extra- 
ordinary, and  perhaps,  imprudent*  measures  to  hasten  it. 
But  the  event  did  not  answer  my  expectations  at  all ;  and, 
in  consequence,  I  was  thrown  into  a  most  violent  com- 
motion, and  was  tempted  to  think  God  unkind  and  un- 
faithful. For  some  weeks,  1  could  not  think  of  my  dis- 
appointment with  submission.  There  were  many  aggra- 
vating circumstances  attending  it,  which  rendered  it  in- 
comparably the  severest  disappointment,  and  of  course, 
the  most  trying  tempt  ition  1  had  ever  met  with.  It  in- 
jured my  health  to  such  a  degree,  that  I  was  obliged  to 
spend  the  summer,  in  journeying  to  recover  my  health. 
This,  however,  did  not  avail,  and  I  returned  worse  than 

'  See  pp.  256,  7. 


364 


MEMOIR  OF 


I  went  away,  and  plunged  in  the  depths  of  discourage- 
ment. Was  obliged,  sorely  against  my  will,  to  give  up 
my  evening  lectures,  and  to  preach  old  sermons.  After 
a  while,  however,  my  health  began  to  return,  though  very 
slowly.  God  was  pleased  to  revisit  me  and  to  raise  me  up 
out  of  the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay  in  which  I  had  so 
long  lain,  and  my  gratitude  for  this  mercy  far  exceeded 
all  I  felt  at  my  first  conversion.  Sin  never  appeared  so 
odious,  nor  Christ  so  precious,  before.  Soon  after  this, 
my  hopes  of  a  revival  began  to  return.  About  a  month 
since,  very  favorable  appearances  were  seen,  and  my  en- 
deavors to  rouse  the  church  seemed  to  be  remarkably 
blessed.  My  whole  soul  was  gradually  wrouglit  up  to 
the  highest  pitch  of  eager  expectation  and  desire  ;  I  had 
great  assistance  in  observing  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer ; 
the  annual  thanksgiving  was  blessed,  in  a  very  remarkable 
and  surprising  manner,  both  to  myself  and  the  church. 
From  these  and  many  other  circumstances  I  was  led  to 
expect,  very  confidently,  that  the  next  Sabbath,  which 
was  our  communion,  would  be  a  glorious  day,  and  that 
Christ  would  then  come  to  convert  the  church  a  second 
time,  and  prepare  them  for  a  great  revival.  I  had  great 
freedom  in  prayer,  both  on  Saturday  night  and  Sabbath 
morning  ;  and  after  resigning,  professedly,  the  whole  mat- 
ter to  God,  and  telling  him  that  if  he  should  disappoint  us, 
it  would  be  all  right,  I  went  to  meeting.  But  what  a  dis- 
appointment awaited  me  !  I  was  more  straitened  than  for 
a  year  before ;  it  was  a  very  dull  day,  both  to  myself  and 
the  church  ;  all  my  hopes  seemed  dashed  to  the  ground, 
at  once,  and  I  returned  home  in  an  agony  not  to  be  de- 
scribed. Instead  of  vanquishing  Satan,  I  was  completely 
foiled  and  led  captive  by  him  ;  all  my  hopes  of  a  revival 
seemed  blasted,  and  I  expected  nothing  but  a  repetition 
of  the  same  conflicts  and  sufferings  which  I  had  endured 
after  my  disappointment  last  spring,  and  which  I  dreaded 
a  thousand  times  worse  than  death.  Hence  my  mind 
was  exceedingly  embittered.  But  though  the  storm  was 
sudden  and  violent,  it  was  short.  My  insulted,  abused 
Master  pitied  and  prayed  for  me,  that  my  faith  might  not  fail, 
and,  therefore,  after  Satan  had  been  permitted  to  sift  me 
as  wheat,  I  was  delivered  out  of  his  power  ;  and,  strange 
as  it  even  now  appears  to  me,  repentance  and  pardon 


KnWAHn  PAYSON. 


365 


were  given  me,  and  I  was  taken,  with  greater  kindness 
than  ever  to  the  bosom  of  that  Saviour  whom  I  had  so  in- 
sulted. Nor  was  this  all ;  the  trial  was  beneficial  to  me. 
It  shewed  me  the  scltishness  of  my  prayers  for  a  revival, 
and  my  self-deception  in  thinking  1  was  willing  to  be  dis- 
appointed, if  God  pleased.  It  convinced  me  that  I  was 
not  yet  prepared  for  such  a  blessing,  and  that  much  more 
wisdom  and  grace  were  necessary,  to  enable  me  to  con- 
duct a  revival  properly,  than  I  had  ever  imagined  before. 
On  the  whole,  though  the  past  year  has  been  one  of  pe- 
culiar trial  and  suffering,  1  have  reason  to  hope  it  has 
not  been  unprofitable  and  that  I  have  not  sufiiered  so 
many  things  altogether  in  vain.  I  have  seen  more  of  my- 
self and  of  Christ,  than  I  ever  saw  before  ;  and  can,  at 
times,  feel  more  of  the  frame  described  Ezekiel  XVI.  63, 
than  I  ever  expected  to  feel  a  year  since.  The  gospel 
way  of  salvation  appears  much  more  glorious  and  pre- 
cious, and  sin  more  hateful.  I  can  see,  supposing  a  revi- 
val is  to  come,  that  it  was  a  great  mercy  to  have  it  so 
long  delayed.  My  hopes,  that  it  will  yet  come,  are  per- 
haps as  strong  as  ever,  but  my  mind  is  on  the  rack  of 
suspense,  and  I  can  scarcely  support  the  conflict  of  min- 
gled anxieties,  desires  and  expectations.  Meanwhile,  ap- 
pearances are,  every  week,  more  favorable,  the  heavens 
are  covered  with  clouds,  and  some  drops  have  already 
fallen.  Such  are  the  circumstances  in  which  I  commence 
the  ninth  year  of  my  ministry,  and  surely  never  did  my 
situation  call  more  loudly  for  fasting  and  prayer  than  now. 

"  In  the  preceding  sketch  of  the  past  year.  1  have  said 
little  of  my  own  wickedness,  or  of  God's  goodness  ;  for  in» 
deed  I  know  not  what  to  say.  The  simple  statements 
which  I  have  made  of  facts  speak  more  loudly  in  favor  of 
Christ,  and  agninst  myself,  than  any  thing  else  can  do. 
I  used  to  think  that  repentance  and  confession  bore  some 
small  proportion  to  my  sins ;  but  now  there  seems  to  be 
no  more  proportion  between  them,  than  between  finite 
and  infinite.  I  can  see  that  I  once  trusted  much  to  my 
repentance  ;  but  now  my  repentance  seems  one  of  my 
worst  sins,  on  account  of  its  exceeding  imperfection. 

"  For  an  hour  or  two,  I  have  enjoyed  as  much  assist- 
ance as  I  usually  do  on  such  occasions ;  but  I  see  more 
31* 


366 


MEMOIB  Of 


and  more  how  exceedingly  little  there  is  of  spirituality  lu 

my  best  affections.  Imagination,  natural  affections,  and 
self-love,  compose  by  much  the  largest  part  of  my  ex|>e- 
riences.  Indeed,  I  can  scarcely  discover  any  thing  else 
It  is  like  a  fire  just  kindled  ;  much  smoke,  some  blaze, 
but  little  heat.  I  have  been  praying,  more  than  I  ever 
did  before,  for  more  spiritual  affection  and  clearer  views  ; 
but  as  yet  my  gracious  God  does  not  ansvt  er  my  request. 
But  he  knows  best,  and  with  him  I  can  leave  it. 

"  Was  favoured,  while  reading  Owen  on  the  Hebrews, 
witii  new'  and  unusually  clear  views  of  many  things  re- 
specting our  Saviour's  sufferings,  which  filled  me  with 
wonder  and  delignt.  O,  how  little  have  I  known,  how- 
little  do  I  still  know,  of  the  great  mystery  of  Godliness  ! 
In  the  evening  hoped  I  felt  something  of  what  the  apostle 
calls  travailing  in  birth  for  souls.  I  was  in  such  a  state 
of  mind,  as  I  cannot  well  describe,  but  it  seemed  to  be 
almost  insupportable. 

"  Dec.  17. — Had  a  most  sweet  refreshing  season  in 
prayer,  last  night.  The  unsearchable  riches  seemed  op- 
ened to  me,  to  take  as  much  as  I  pleased.  Had  great  lib- 
erty la  praying  for  a  revi\  al  ;  and  could  scarcely  give 
over  the  blessed  work,  though  much  exhausted.  This 
morning  was  in  the  same  frame.  Was  especially  affect- 
ed and  delighted  with  the  proof  of  love  which  he  required 
from  Peter,  "Feed  my  sheep."  Prayed  that  I  might  be 
enabled  to  feed  them  this  day.  Went  to  the  house  of 
God  with  more  of  such  a  fi-ame,  as  I  wished,  than  usual. 
I  have  hitherto  had  no  liberty  in  praying  for  a  revival  in 
public.  However  much  I  might  feel  at  home,  it  was  ta- 
ken from  me  as  soon  as  I  entered  the  meeting-house.  But 
to-day,  my  fetters  were  taken  off.  I  could  pray  for  no- 
thing but  a  revival. 

"  Dec.  18. — Felt  unusually  oppressed  with  a  sense  of 
the  wisdom  and  grace  necessary  to  conduct  a  revival ;  but 
was  enabled  to  trust  in  God  to  supply  my  wants.  Spent 
the  evening  with  Christian  friends.  Prayed  for  a  bless- 
ing on  the  visit,  and  found  it  a  sweet  season.  After  my 
return,  had  a  most  refreshing  and  delightful  season  in 
prayer.  Had  no  longer  the  least  doubt  of  a  revival,  and 
my  joy  was  unspeakable.  Continued  sweetly  meditating 
and  praying,  till  I  fell  asleep. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


367 


•'  Dec.  19. — New  joys,  new  praises.  Had  a  most 
ravishing  view  of  Christ,  this  morning,  as  coming  at  a 
distance  in  the  chariot  of  his  salvation.  In  an  instant 
he  was  with  mc,  and  around  me,  and  I  could  only  cry, 
Welcome !  welcome !  a  thousand  times  welcome,  to  my 
disconsolate  heart,  and  to  thy  widowed  church  !  O,  joy 
unspeakable  and  full  of  glory — while  seeing  him  not,  I 
feel  and  believe  his  presence.  Spent  the  evening  with 
the  church  after  much  prayer,  both  alone  and  with  oth- 
ers, that  Christ  would  meet  and  bless  us.  Went  to  meet- 
ing trembling,  and  my  fears  were  realized.  1  was  en- 
tirely deserted,  had  nothing  to  say,  and  was  obliged  to 
leave  them  abruptly.  They  sat  stupid  awhile,  after  I 
left  them,  and  then  separated.  This  was  a  sore  trial. 
Impatience  and  self-will  struggled  hard  for  leave  to  say 
something  against  Christ ;  but  1  was  enabled  to  flee  to 
the  throne  of  grace,  and  found  relief  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain. I  have  no  direct  promise  that  there  shall  be  a  re- 
vival ;  but  I  have  a  thousand  direct,  positive  assurances 
that  Christ  is  faithful,  and  wise,  and  kind.  This,  there- 
fore, faith  will  believe,  whatever  becomes  of  my  hopes 
and  wishes ;  and  it  is  evidently  absurd  to  profess  to  trust 
in  God  for  what  he  has  not  expressly  promised,  while  I 
do  not  believe  his  positive  assurances. 

"  Dec.  24. — Enjoyed  great  nearness  to  Christ  in  family 
prayer.  Seemed  to  feel  a  perfect  union  with  him,  and  to 
love,  with  a  most  intense  love,  every  thing  that  is  dear  to 
him.  Christians  seemed  inexpressibly  dear  to  me,  and  I 
loved  to  pray  for  them,  as  for  myself  But,  O,  where  have 
I  been  1  and  what  have  I  been  doing  all  my  days  ?  How 
terribly  blind  and  ignorant  of  religion  have  I  been  ;  and 
now  I  know  nothing,  feel  nothing,  as  I  ought.  Saw  that 
there  is  incomparably  more  to  be  known  and  felt  in  religion, 
than  I  ever  thought  of  before.  What  a  pity,  that  I  have 
lost  so  many  of  the  best  years  of  my  life,  in  contented  ig- 
norance ;  and  what  would  I  not  give  for  the  years  I  have 
lost.  I  never  can  be  humbled  sufficiently  for  my  indo- 
lence. As  it  respects  a  revival,  [  feel  easy.  My  anxiety 
has  subsided  into  a  settled  calm,  arising  from  a  fuH  per- 
suasion that  Christ  will  come  and  save  us. 

"  Dec.  30. — Was  greatly  assisted  in  praying  for  a  re- 


368 


MEMOIR  OF 


vivaJ,  and  felt  almost  a  full  assurence  that  it  would  be 
granted.  Felt  sweetly  melted  and  almost  overpowered 
with  a  sense  (  f  God's  sovereign  unmerited  love.  Could 
not  forbear  saying  to  him,  that  he  ought  not  save  such  a 
guilty  creature  ;  or,  at  least,  ought  not  to  employ  me,  and 
bless  my  labors  ;  but  he  seemed  to  reply,  with  great  pow- 
er and  majesty,  "  I  will  have  mercy  on  whom  1  will  have 
mercy."  Could  not  but  submit,  that  it  should  be  so. 
Never  did  the  sovereignty  of  God  appear  so  sweet  as  then. 
Spent  part  of  the  evening  in  religious  conversation  with 
my  domestics. 

"  Jan.  4,  1816. — Preached  the  evening  lecture  without 
much  sensible  assistance.  After  nieetuig,  one  of  the 
church  informed  me  that  in  the  afternoon  a  man,  (who 
had  formerly  been  one  of  the  first  merchants  in  town,) 
once  a  professor,  but  who  has  been  for  many  years  an 
apostate,  and  bitter  enemy  to  religion,  came  to  him  ap- 
parently much  distressed  respecting  his  salvation  ;  and 
that  the  same  man  was  at  lecture.  This  good  news  filled 
us  with  joy  and  triumph,  so  that  all  doubts  of  a  revival 
seemed  removed.  O,  I  wanted  even  then  to  begin  my 
eternal  song,  and  excess  of  happiness  became  almost  pain- 
ful.   Could  scarcely  sleep  for  joy,  though  much  fatigued. 

"  Jan.  5. — Had  similar  views  and  feelings,  this  morn- 
ing, but  less  vivid.  Tonk  a  review  of  God's  dealings  with 
me,  and  of  my  own  exercises  respecting  the  revival.  Saw 
infinite  wisdom  and  goodness  in  every  thing  that  God  has 
done,  and  could  not  but  admire  and  praise.  As  to  my 
feelings,  though  they  seemed  little  better  than  a  mass  of 
pride,  and  selfishness,  and  impatience,  yet  I  could  not 
but  see  that  there  was  some  real  faith  under  all,  which 
God  had  accepted.  Afterwards,  however,  reflecting  on 
the  feelings  of  Papists  towards  their  saints,  and  l  agans 
towards  their  idols,  I  was  led  to  doubt  whether  I  had  ex- 
ercised any  real  faith  at  all.  Attended  a  fast.  Endeav- 
ored to  convince  the  church  how  polluted  the  conference- 
room  must  be  in  the  sight  of  God,  in  consequence  of  the 
sins  which  had  been  committed  there.  Then  made  a  con- 
fession of  them,  and  prayed  that  it  might  be  cleansed. 
Then  did  the  same  with  respect  to  our  elosets,  and 
houses,  and  afterwards  the  bouse  of  Grod,  and  the  commu- 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


369 


niou-table.  Then  read  and  expounded  the  new  covenant, 
and  shewed  what  was  meant  by  taking  hold  of  it.  Fin- 
ished by  imploring  all  the  blessings  of  this  covenant  on 
the  church,  and  praying  for  a  revival. 

Jan.  7. — Sabbath.  Had  no  freedom  either  in  prayer 
or  preaching,  and  the  congregation  appeared  uncommon- 
ly stupid.  Concluded  tliat  there  was  to  be  no  revival 
under  me.  Was  exceedingly  distressed,  but  felt  no  dis- 
position to  murmur,  or  be  impatient.  Withdrew  to  my 
chamber,  to  weep  and  pray.  It  seemed  clear,  that  I  was 
the  great  obstacle  to  a  revival.  I  have  not  "  rendered 
again  according  to  the  benefit  done  unto  me,  but  my  heart 
has  been  lifted  up  ;  therefore  is  there  wrath  upon  my 
people."  Threw  myself  in  the  dust  at  God's  feel.  De- 
rived some  comfort  from  often  repeating  those  words,  I 
will  be  gracious  to  whom  I  will  be  gracious.  It  seemed 
sweet,  as  well  as  reasonable,  that  God  should  be  a  sove- 
reign, and  do  what  he  will  with  his  own." 

"  March  1,  1816. 

 "  Could  I,  my  dear  Mother,  tell  you  all  the  good 

news  I  have  so  long  been  waiting  for,  it  would  be  some 
comfort ;  but  I  can  say  but  little  compared  with  what  I 
hoped  to  be  able  to  say,  before  this  time;  nor  can  I  yet 
determine  how  it  will  go  with  us.  We  have  about  eighty 
inquirers,  and  several,  I  hope,  are  converted ;  but  this 
is  notiiing  to  what  we  expected.  However,  we  would 
be  thankful  for  a  drop,  if  we  cannot  have  a  shower.  It 
has  been  a  trying  season  with  me,  this  winter.  While 
pursuing  the  revival,  it  seemed  as  if  I  must  die  in  the 
pursuit,  and  never  overtake  it. 

"  April  1,  1816. 

 "  I  am  so  worn  down  with  constant  cares  and 

labors,  that  my  affections  seem  to  be  all  dried  up,  "  and 
I  am  withered  like  grass."  However,  1  hope  you  have 
received,  ere  this,  a  few  lines,  as  a  proof  that  I  have  not 
quite  forgotten,  or  ceased  to  love  my  mother. 

"  Our  revival  still  lingers:  it,  however,  increases  slow- 
ly. I  have  conversed  with  about  forty,  who  entertain 
hopes,  and  with  about   sixty   more  who  are  inquiring. 


370 


MEMOIK  01' 


Twenty  three  have  joined  the  church,  since  the  year 
commenced.  The  work  is,  evidently,  not  over ;  but 
whether  it  will  prove  general,  is  still  doubtful.  There  is 
quite  a  revival  at  Bath,  below  us.  Nearly  two  hundred 
have  been  awakened.  In  Philadelphia,  seventy  one  were 
added  to  a  single  church  at  one  time,  a  few  weeks  since. 
In  New- York  and  Baltimore,  also,  there  are  revivals. 
You  have  probably  heard,  that  there  have  been  revivals 
among  the  Hottentots.  Two  hundred  were  added  to  the 
church  in  one  year,  and  ten  Hottentot  preachers  ordain- 
ed. There  is  much  more  good  news  of  a  similar  nature. 
Surely,  we  live  in  a  good  day,  and  I  believe  you  will  yet 
see  good  days  in  Rindge.  Their  liberality  in  raising  fa- 
ther's salary,  is  a  token  for  good  ;  and  I  rejoice  in  it  more 
for  that  reason,  than  for  any  other.  Those  who  are  most 
willing  to  pay  for  the  gospel,  are  most  likely  to  have  it 
blessed  to  them. 

"  We  go  on  very  happily  in  every  respect.  I  have  been 
favored  with  a  long  calm,  or  rather  sunshine.  Every  thing 
is  easy  ;  I  am  careful  for  nothing  ;  Christ  is  so  precious, 
and  so  near  ;  my  cup  runneth  over.  Every  day,  I  expect 
a  storm,  but  it  does  not  come.  Doubtless  I  have  many 
bitter,  trying  scenes  to  pass  through  yet ;  worse  than 
any  I  have  heretofore  experienced.  But  I  care  not.  He 
will  carry  me  through.  I  wish  to  mention  to  you  some 
passages,  which  have  been  peculiarly  sweet  of  late.  One 
is  this  :  "  He  caused  them  to  be  pitied  of  all  them,  by 
whom  they  were  carried  away  captive."  Scarcely  any 
passage  of  scripture  seems  to  me  so  expressive  of  God's 
goodness  to  his  people,  as  this.  After  they  had  provoked 
him,  till  he  banished  them  from  the  good  land,  still  he 
pitied  them,  and  made  their  enemies  pity  them.  It 
sounds  like  David's  language,  "  Deal  gently  with  the 
young  man  Absalom,  for  my  sake." 

"  Another  is  the  account  of  our  Saviour's  ascension,  in 
the  last  chapter  of  Luke  :  "  And  he  lifted  up  his  hands, 
and  blessed  them.  And  wldle  he  blessed  them,  &c.  Ob- 
serve, "  while  he  blessed,"  &-C.  The  last  thing  he  was 
ever  seen  to  do  on  earth,  was,  to  bless  his  disciples.  He 
went  up,  scattering  blessings  ;  and  he  has  done  nothing 
but  bless  them  ever  since." 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


371 


"  Sept.  19,  1816. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  at  all,  my  dear  mother,  at  your  dis- 
covering from  my  letters,  the  jaded,  languid  state  of  my 
mental  faculties.  They  have  long  since  lost  all  the  elas- 
ticity, which  they  ever  possessed,  and  my  mind  is  "as 
dry  as  the  remainder  biscuit,  after  a  voyage." 

 "  On  the  whole,  the  past  summer  has  been  the 

happiest  which  I  have  enjoyed,  since  I  was  settled.  Were 
it  not  for  the  dreadfully  depressing  effects  of  ill  health,  I 
should  be  almost  too  happy.  It  seems  to  me,  that  no  do- 
mestic troubles,  not  even  the  loss  of  wife  and  children, 
could  disturb  me  much,  might  I  enjoy  such  consolations, 
as  I  have  been  favored  with  most  of  the  time,  since  the 
date  of  my  last  letter.  Soon  after  that,  the  revival,  which 
I  feared  was  at  an  end,  began  again,  and  things  now  look 
as  promising  as  ever.  My  meeting  house  overflows,  and 
some  of  the  church  are  obliged  to  stay  at  home,  on  ac- 
count of  the  impossibdity  of  obtaining  seats.  I  have,  in 
the  main,  been  favored  with  great  liberty,  for  me,  both 
in  the  pulpit  and  out  ;  and  it  has  very  often  seemed  as 
if, — could  I  only  drop  thebody, — I  could  continue,  with- 
out a  moment's  pause,  to  praise  and  adore  to  all  eternity. 
This  goodness  is  perfectly  astonishing  and  incomprehen- 
sible. I  am  in  a  maze,  whenever  I  think  of  it.  Every 
day,  for  years,  I  have  been  expecting  some  dreadful  judg- 
ments, reckoning,  as  Hezekiah  did,  that  as  a  lion  God 
would  break  all  my  bones,  and  from  day  even  to  night, 
make  an  end  of  me  ?  Now,  and  now,  I  have  said  to  my- 
self, it  is  coming.  Now,  God  will  cast  me  out  of  his  vine- 
yard. Now,  he  will  lay  me  aside,  or  withdraw  his  Spirit, 
and  let  ^me  fall  into  some  great  sin.  But  instead  of  the 
judgments,  which  I  expected,  and  deserve,  he  sends  noth- 
ing but  mercies  ;  such  great  mercies,  too,  that  I  abso- 
lutely stagger  under  them,  and  all  my  words  are  swal- 
lowed up. 

"  But  great  as  my  reasons  are  to  love  God  for  his  fa- 
vors, methinks  he  is  infinitely  more  precious,  on  account 
of  his  perfections.  Never  did  he  appear  so  inexpressibly 
glorious  and  lovely,  as  he  has,  for  some  weeks  past  He 
is,  indeed,  all  in  all.  I  have  nothing  to  fear,  nothing  to 
hope,  from  creatures.    They  arc  all  mere  shadows  and 


372 


MEMOIR  OF 


puppets.  There  is  only  one  Being  in  the  universe,  and 
that  Being  is  God ;  may  I  add,  He  is  my  God.  I  long 
to  go  and  see  him  in  heaven.  I  long  still  more  to  stay 
and  serve  him  on  earth.  Rather,  I  rejoice  to  be  just 
where  he  pleases,  and  to  be  what  he  pleases.  Never  did 
selfishness  and  pride  appear  so  horrid.  Never  did  I  see 
myself  to  be  such  a  monster  ;  so  totally  dead  to  all  wisdom 
and  goodness.  But  I  can  point  up,  and  say — there  is  my 
righteousness,  my  wisdom,  my  all.  In  the  hands  of 
Christ  I  lie  passive  and  helpless,  and  am  astonished  to 
see  how  he  can  work  in  me.  He  does  all ;  holds  me  up, 
carries  me  forward,  works  in  me  and  by  me  ;  while  I  do 
nothing,  and  yet  never  worked  faster  in  my  life.  To  say 
all  in  a  word — "  My  soul  foUoweth  hard  after  thee ;  thy 
right  hand  upholdeth  me." 

"  Our  inquirers  about  seventy.  We  are  building  a 
Conference  house,  to  hold  500  people.  Some  of  the 
church,  who  can  ill  afford  it,  give  fifty  dollars  each  to- 
wards it." 

"  Dec.  9,  ISIG. 

"  In  a  religious  view,  things  remain  very  much  as  they 
have  been.  We  have  about  fifty  inquirers  ;  but  they  do 
not  seem,  except  in  a  few  instances,  to  be  very  deeply  im- 
pressed, and  their  progress  is  slow.  We  have  admitted  sev- 
enty-two persons  into  the  church  during  the  present  year. 
Our  new  Conference  house  has  been  finished  some  weeks ; 
cost,  about  twelve  hundred  dollars.  At  its  dedication, 
and  at  a  quarterly  fast  held  in  it  the  same  week,  we  en- 
joyed the  divine  presence  in  a  greater  degree,  I  think, 
than  we  ever  did  before  as  a  church.  I  would  not  have 
given  a  straw  for  the  additional  proof,  which  a  visible  ap- 
pearance of  Christ  would  have  afforded  of  his  presence. 
And  he  has  been  wonderfully  gracious  to  me  ever  since. 
It  is  several  months  since  I  have  been  disturbed  with  any 
of  those  dreadftil  conflicts,  which  for  so  many  years  ren- 
dered life  bitterer  than  wormwood  and  gall. 

"  We  have  received  intelligence  of  E's.  marriage.  I 
can  realize,  more  than  I  once  could,  what  a  severe  trial 
it  must  be  to  you  and  my  father,  to  have  both  daughters 
gone — almost  like  burying  them.  If  father  were  not  a 
minister,  and  thus  Jized  where  he  is,  I  should  send  hitH 


EDWARD  PAY30N. 


373 


and  you  such  an  invitation,  as  Joseph  sent  to  Jacob,  to 
come,  and  let  us  nurse  and  nourish  you,  since  you  are 
left  so  much  alone." 

"  Dec  16,  1817. — This  being  the  anniversary  of  my 
ordination,  determined  to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer. 
Had  little  courage  to  attempt  it,  on  account  of  bodily  in- 
firmities, and  repeated  vain  attempts  ,  but  God  was  gra- 
cious to  me,  and  enabled  me  to  go  through  with  it.  Had 
for  a  long  time,  a  melting,  heart-broken  frame  at  the  feet 
of  Christ,  weeping  aloud,  and  obtained  a  full  and  sweet 
assurance  of  pardon.  Never  before  enjoyed  such  a  sense 
of  his  love,  or  felt  so  constrained  to  love  him,  and  every 
thing  that  belonged  to  him,  especially  his  word,  which  I 
could  not  forbear  kissing,  and  pressing  to  my  bo.som. 
Was  perfectly  willing  to  die,  without  leaving  my  cham- 
ber, if  my  work  here  were  done,  and  God  saw  best. 

"  Dec.  18. — Began  to  think,  last  night,  that  I  have 
been  sleeping  all  my  days  ;  and,  this  morning,  felt  sure 
of  it.  I  have  been  idling  and  sleeping,  while  my  flock 
have  been  dropping  into  hell.  How  astonishingly  blind 
have  I  been,  and  how  imperceptible  my  religious  progress. 
Prayed  for  my  people  with  more  of  a  right  spirit,  than 
perhaps  ever  before.  After  meeting,  had  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, such  a  view  of  God  as  almost  overwhelmed  me. 
Could  not  have  supported  it  long." 

"  Oct.  27,  1818. 
 "  In  addition  to  these  favors,  we  have  some  reas- 
on to  hope,  that  Zion  is  travailing  in  birth  with  souls. 
After  a  long  season,  the  preached  word  begins  again  to 
be  blessed  ;  and  several  have,  within  a  few  days,  been 
awakened.  My  health,  too,  which  for  several  weeks,  was 
worse  than  ever,  is  now  quite  as  good  as  usual  ;  and  God 
has  been  so  gracious  to  me  in  spiritual  things,  that  I 
thought  he  was  preparing  me  for  L's  death.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  so  still;  but  if  so,  his  will  be  done.  David's 
charge  to  his  soul,  "  wait  thou  only  upon  God,"  has  of 
late,  seemed  peculiarly  precious.  Let  hira  take  all ;  if  he 
leaves  us  himself,  we  still  have  all  and  abound — I  tell  my 
dear  parents  of  these  mercies,  because  I  know  they  are  in 
32 


374 


MEMOIR  OP 


answer  to  your  prayers ;  and  because  I  trust  they  will 
cause  you  to  abound  in  thanksgiving  in  my  behalf. 
****** 

"  Since  I  wrote  the  above,  I  have  seen  three  more  new- 
ly awakened  ;  and  other  circumstances  appear  encourag- 
ing. Truly  my  cup  runs  over  with  blessings.  I  can 
still  scarcely  help  thinking,  that  God  is  preparing  me  for 
some  severe  trial  ;  but  if  he  will  grant  me  his  presence, 
as  he  does  now,  no  trial  can  seem  severe.  However,  I 
desire  to  rejoice  with  trembling.  I  seem  to  know  a  little, 
what  is  meant  by  tearing  the  Lord  and  his  goodness. 
There  seems  to  be  something  awful  and  venerable  even  in 
the  goodness  of  God,  when  displayed  towards  creatures  so 
desperately  wicked,  so  inexpressibly  vile,  as  we  are.  O, 
could  I  now  drop  the  body,  I  could  stand  and  cry  to  all 
eternity,  without  being  weary — God  is  holy,  God  is  just, 
God  is  good  ;  God  is  wise,  and  faithful,  and  true.  Either 
of  his  perfections  alone  is  sufficient  to  furnish  matter  for 
an  eternal,  unwearied  song.  How  bright,  how  dazzling, 
is  Xh^pure  unsullied  whiteness  of  his  character  ;  and  how 
black,  how  loathsome,  do  we  appear  in  contrast  with  it  ; 
could  I  sing  upon  paper,  I  should  "  break  forth  into  sing- 
ing," for  day  and  night  I  can  do  nothing  but  sing.  "  Let 
the  saints  be  joyful  in  glory  ;  let  them  sing  aloud  upon 
their  beds  ;  for  the  Lord  shall  reign  king  forever,  '  and 
thy  God,  O  Zion,  throughout  all  generations.' " 

"  April  13,  1820. 

"  I  have  lately  been  very  much  delighted  with  some 
account  of  the  last  years  of  Mr.  Newton.  Nothing  that  I 
have  yet  met  with,  seems  to  come  so  near  complete  ripe- 
ness of  Christian  character,  as  the  views  and  feelings, 
which  he  expresses  in  his  daily  conversation.  He  seems 
to  have  seen  God  continually  in  every  thing,  to  have  been 
wholly  swallowed  in  him,  and  to  have  regarded  him  as 
all  in  all.  The  whole  creation  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  be 
annihilated  in  his  view,  and  God  to  have  taken  its  place. 
If  a  miracle  had  been  wrought  before  me,  to  prove  the  re- 
ality of  religion,  it  could  scarcely  have  produced  convic- 
tion like  that  which  resulted  from  seeing  religion  thus 
gloriously  e;semplified.    After  his  faculties  seemed  to  be 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


375 


almost  extinct,  so  that  he  could  not  remember,  in  the  af- 
ternoon, having  preached  in  the  morning,  faith  and  love 
and  hope  were  as  strong  as  ever.  Indeed,  I  cannot  con- 
ceive of  nearer  approaches  to  perfection  in  this  world, 
than  he  seems  to  have  made,  during  the  last  years  of  his 
life.  He  says  that  God  works  in  his  people  to  mil,  first  ; 
and  afterwards,  to  do  ;  and  thinks  that  Christians  will  to 
do  good,  many  years  before  they  actually  do  much.  This 
is  encouraging.  I  think  God  works  in  me  to  will ;  but  in 
doing,  my  progress  is  small  indeed." 

"ilfay  17,  1821. 

*'  My  dear  Mother, 

"  111  news  flies  so  fast,  and  becomes  so  much  exagger- 
ated in  its  progress,  that  I  should  not  wonder  if  you  were- 
to  hear  a  rumor  that  I  am  dying,  if  not  dead.  The  truth 
is,  I  have  been  sick — perhaps  dangerously  so.  About 
three  months  since,  I  began  to  be  troubled  with  a  slight 
cough.  It  gradually  grew  worse,  and  was  attended  with 
loss  of  appetite,  pain  in  the  chest,  difficulty  of  breathing, 
daily  accession  of  fever,  and  spitting  of  blood.  It  is  near- 
ly a  month  since  I  have  been  obliged  to  give  up  preach- 
ing, and  have  recourse  to  emetics,  blistering,  bleeding, 
&c.  By  the  blessing  of  God  attending  these  means,  I  am 
now  almost  well  again,  and  hope  to  be  able  soon  to  re- 
sume my  labors.  I  am,  however,  still  weak,  and  cannot 
write  much  ;  but  I  was  fearful  you  would  hear  that  I  am 
worse  than  I  really  aai,  and  therefore  thought  it  best  to 
write  a  few  lines." 

"  Jane  8. — This  is  a  most  melancholy  day  to  me.  It 
is  the  Sabbath,  on  which  we  should  have  had  the  commu- 
nion ;  but  we  have  no  one  to  preach  for  us.  My  flock  are 
scattered,  and  I  can  only  look  on  and  groan.  My  health  is 
in  such  a  state,  that  I  can  feel  nothing  but  misery.  How- 
ever, this  blow  seemed  to  txmch  me.  I  saw  that  it  was 
just,  though  I  can  scarcely  be  s.  id  to  have  felt  it.  To- 
morrow, 1  expect  to  sail  for  Ch:>rleston,  with  a  view  to 
the  recovery  of  my  health  ;  but  1  go  with  a  heavy  heart. 
There  appears  little  prospect  of  its  proving  beneficial." 


376 


MEMIOIR  OF 


"  July  16. 

"  I  am  just  returned  from  Charleston.  My  health  is 
much  improved.  I  had  a  very  pleasant  passage  out ;  but 
a  most  tedious  and  unpleasant  return.  The  Captain,  who 
carried  me  out,  was  as  kind  as  possible.  I  hope  he  has 
his  reward.  He  offered  to  carry  me  to  Europe,  and  bring 
me  back,  without  a  farthing's  expense.  It  would  have 
been  gratifying  to  see  Old  England  ;  but  I  could  not 
spare  the  time." 

*'  July  16. — O,  how  much  better  is  God  to  me  than  my 
fears,  and  even  than  my  hopes !  How  ready  to  answer 
prayer  !  This  afternoon  he  has  banished  my  fears  and 
sorrows,  strengthened  my  faith,  revived  my  hopes,  and 
encouraged  me  to  go  on.  Had  a  precious  season  in  vis- 
iting and  praying  with  some  of  my  people,  and  still  more 
so  in  the  evening.  O,  how  wise  and  good  is  God  !  Now 
I  can  see -it  was  best,  that  I  should  not  be  assisted  in 
preaching,  yesterday  ;  for  it  drove  me,  in  self  despair,  to 
the  throne  of  grace.  Whereas,  had  I  been  assisted,  I 
might  have  remained  at  a  distance.  And  I  desire  to  re- 
cord it  to  the  honor  of  God,  and  my  own  shame,  that  I 
never  went  to  him  in  distress,  without  finding  almost  im- 
mediate relief 

"  July  25. — This  day  I  am  thirty-eight  years  old.  I 
had  intended  to  make  it  a  day  of  family  thanksgiving,  but 
ray  weakness  prevented.  Indeed,  ill  health  is  an  obstacle 
continually  in  my  way,  almost  wholly  obstructing  my  use- 
fulness and  growth  in  grace.  Half  my  time  I  am  so  lan- 
guid in  body  and  mind  that  I  can  do  nothing ;  and  the 
other  half  I  am  very  far  from  being  well.  But  God  has 
hitherto  graciously  supported  me,  so  that,  though  cast 
down,  I  am  not  yet  destroyed.  As  to  resolving  that  I 
will  do  better  in  future,  I  have  no  courage  to  do  it.  The 
loss  of  so  many  years  withers  my  strength  and  courage, 
and  dries  up  my  spirits." 

Aug.  6,  1821, 
"  Since  I  wrote  last,  there  has  been  quite  a  change  in 
me.    Then  my  henlth  was  better,  but  my  mind  sick. 
Now  my  mind  is  comparatively  at  ease,  but  my  health  has 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


377 


sunk  down  nearly  to  its  old  standard.  However,  this 
state  is  vastly  more  comfortable  than  the  former,  and  I 
desire  to  be  satisfied.  I  think,  my  dear  mother,  you  may 
dismiss  all  anxiety  respecting  me.  I  am  in  wise  and  good 
hands,  and  do  not  suffer  more  than  is  absolutely  neces- 
.sary." 

"  Se2)t.  1. — While  lying  awake,  last  night,  enjoyed 
most  delightful  views  of  God  as  a  Father.  Felt  that  my 
happiness  is  as  dear  to  him,  as  to  myself;  that  he  would 
not  willingly  hurt  one  hair  of  my  head,  nor  let  me  sutler  a 
moment's  unnecessary  pain.  Felt  that  he  was  literally  as 
willing  to  give,  as  1  could  be  to  ask.  Seemed,  indeed,  to 
have  nothing  to  ask  for." 

In  a  letter,  dated  Sept.  10th,  after  alluding  to  "  sore 
trials,"  and  especially  to  one,  of  several  events  which  had 
a  most  melancholy  and  disastrous  aspect  on  the  religious 
prospects  of  the  clmrch,  he  says — "  This,  coming  just 
when  we  were  expecting  a  revival,  was  peculiarly  griev- 
ous ;  but  I  still  hoj)e,  after  God  has  crushed  us  into  the 
dust,  he  will  exalt  us.  He  has  been  most  wonderfully 
gracious  tome,  during  these  trials.  Never  before  have  I 
enjoyed  such  consolations.  It  seems  as  evident  as  noon- 
day, that  the  same  love,  which  prompted  the  Saviour  to 
bear  the  curse  for  us,  would  have  led  him  to  bear  all  our 
afflictions  for  us,  were  it  not  absolutely  necessary,  that 
we  should  suffer  in  our  own  persons.  I  see,  I  feel,  that 
he  would  as  soon  wound  the  apple  of  his  eye,  as  give  one 
of  his  people  a  moment's  needless  pain.  I  care  not  what 
trials  may  come,  for  I  know  that  they  will  be  for  my  good, 
and  that  he  will  support  me." 

At  the  commencement  at  Bowdoin  College,  this  month, 
he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  in  Divinity  ;  but  writes 
to  his  mother — "  I  beg  you  not  to  address  your  letters  to 
me  by  that  title,  for  I  shall  never  make  use  of  it." 

"  i^rpt.  19. — Last  night,  while  lying  awake,  had  more 
distinct  apprehensions  of  God's  greatness,  than  at  any 
previous  time.    Realized  little  of  any  thing  else,  except 
simple  greatness  ;  and  this,  although  1  seemed  to  have  no 
3^* 


378 


MEMOIH  OB' 


views,  compared  with  what  might  be,  ahiiost  crushed  me 
to  death.  I  could  not  move  a  limb,  nor  scarcely  breathe. 
Saw  how  easily  a  little  view  of  God  might  destroy  us. 
Could  realize,  more  than  ever,  that  a  clear  view  of  God 
must  be  hell  to  the  wicked  ;  for  had  any  sense  of  his  an- 
ger accompanied  this  view  of  his  greatness,  I  could  not 
have  supported  it. 

"  Oct.  11. — Still  my  cup  runs  over  with  blessings. 
God  graciously  continues  to  grant  me  his  presence,  when 
I  lie  down,  and  when  I  rise  up,  though  he  every  day  sees 
enough  in  me  to  justify  him  in  leaving  me  forever." 

"  Oct.  15. 

 "  God  continues  to  be  wonderfully  gracious  to  me 

in  spiritual  things.  I  know  not  what  it  means.  I  never 
was  so  happy  for  so  long  a  time  before.  I  suspect  some 
grievous  trial  is  approaching.  Let  it  come,  if  God  pleases. 
While  he  is  with  me,  I  feel  entirely  independent  of  all 
circumstances,  creatures,  and  events.  Yet  creature  com- 
forts are  pleasant,  when  we  can  enjoy  God  in  them. 

"  I  fear  will  do  tiie  church  little  good.  At 

first,  it  seemed  to  affect  them  in  a  proper  manner,  but  the 
impression  is  fast  wearing  away.  Whether  God  will 
scourge  them  still  more  severely,  or  whether  he  will  come 
and  melt  them  into  repentance  by  unexpected  displays  of 
mercy,  I  do  not  know.  If  I  could  see  them  made  to  feel 
what  a  God  Jehovah  is,  and  what  a  Saviour  Christ  is,  and 
what  a  place  heaven  is ! — But  I  do  not.  Still,  when  I 
look  at  God  in  Christ,  and  see  how  good,  how  gracious, 
how  condescending,  how  powerful  he  is,  I  am  compelled, 
in  spite  of  myself  to  hope,  and  almost  to  feel  sure,  that  I 
shall,  sooner  or  later,  see  a  revival  of  religion  here.  It 
may  be,  however,  that  tliis  bright  day  is  designed  only 
to  prepare  me  for  as  dark  a  night.  But  I  desire  to  do 
present  duty,  to  enjoy  with  humble  gratitude  present  hap- 
piness, and  let  tomorrow  take  thought  for  itself." 

"  Nov.  25. 

 "  A  young  man,  member  of  our  church,  is  just 

settled,  and  a  revival  has  commenced.  About  fifly  are 
awakened,  and  the  work  is  increasing.    He  makes  the 


i:i)WAKI)  PATSON. 


379 


fourth  member  of  our  cliurcb,  who  has  been  settled  since 
I  came  here." — Dr.  Payson  superintended  the  prepara- 
tion of  several  young  men  for  the  ministry. 

"  Feb.  3,  1822. 
 "  If  my  letter  takes  its  complexion  from  my  feel- 
ings, it  will  appear  gloomy  indeed.  Since  I  wrote  last,  it 
has  been  a  season  of  trial  with  me.  E.  has  had  a  terrible 
abscess,  which  we  feared  would  prove  too  much  for  her 
slender  constitution.  We  were  almost  worn  out  with 
watching  ;  and  just  as  she  began  to  amend,  I  was  seized 
with  a  violent  ague  in  my  face,  which  gave  me  incessant 
anguish  for  six  days  and  nights  together,  and  deprived  me 
almost  entirely  of  sleep.  Three  nights,  I  did  not  once 
close  my  eyes.  VV  hen  almost  distracted  with  pain  and 
loss  of  sleep,  Satan  was  let  loose  upon  me  to  buffet  me, 
and,  I  verily  thought,  would  have  driven  me  to  despera- 
tion and  madness.  Nor  is  my  situation  now  much  bet- 
ter. The  fact  is,  my  nervous  sy.stem,  at  all  times  weak, 
has  been  so  shattered  by  pain,  and  watching,  and  strong 
opiates  which  gave  no  relief,  that  I  am  sunk  in  gloom 
and  despondency,  and  can  only  write  bitter  things  against 
myself.  Surely  no  one  suffers  so  much  unprofitable  mis- 
ery as  I  do.  I  call  it  unprofitable,  because  it  is  of  such  a 
nature,  that  I  do  not  see  how  it  possibly  can  produce  any 
good  effect.  It  only  weakens,  dispirits,  and  discoura- 
ges me. 

"  We  have  had  a  few  instances  of  conviction,  and  at 
least  one  of  conversion,  since  1  wrote  last ;  and  the  church, 
I  hope,  is  gaining  ground.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that 
eight  or  ten  are  awakened  in  Gorham." 

"  Feb.  5. 

"  I  can  now  write  in  a  less  dismal  strain.  I  am  not 
happy,  but  I  am  less  wretched.  I  feel,  that  while  such  a 
creature  as  I  am,  is  out  of  hell,  I  have  great  reason  for 
thankfulness.  But  my  flesh  trembles,  and  my  blood  al- 
most runs  cold,  when  I  look  back  upon  what  I  have  suffer- 
ed. Certainly,  a  very  large  proportion  of  my  path  lies 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  Bishop  Hall 
says — '  None  out  of  hell  have  suffered  so  much,  as  some 


330 


MEMOIR  OF 


of  God's  children  ;'  and  I  believe  it.  I  should  not,  how- 
ever, much  regard  my  sufferings,  if  they  were  sanctified." 

Feb.  19. 

"  You  will  be  glad,  my  dear  mother,  to  hear  that  the 
man  who  had  the  legion,  is  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Jesus, 
in  his  right  mind,  i  had  obtained  some  relief,  when  I 
wrote  you  last,  but  it  proved  of  short  continuance  ;  the 
clouds  returned  after  the  rain,  and  I  was  again  in  the  hor- 
rible pit  and  miry  clay,  and  there  remained  till  the  next 
Sabbath.  But  now,  I  trust,  the  devil  is  cast  out ;  though, 
a.s  he  departed  from  our  Saviour  only  for  a  season,  1  know 
not  how  soon  he  may  return.  You  know  Mr.  Newton 
thinks  that,  comparatively  speaking,  he  fights  with  neither 
small  nor  great,  except  with  ministers.  I  know  not  how 
this  may  be  ;  but  if  he  torments  otliers  as  he  does  me,  I 
a^n  sure  I  pity  them.  I  am  now  so  worn  out  with  suffering 
and  conflict,  that  I  seem  incapable  of  enjoyment;  but  1 
feel  quiet  and  peaceful,  and  that  is  a  great  mercy. 

The  symptoms  of  a  revival  increase  among  us.  Per- 
haps a  dozen  have  been  awakened,  and  three  have  obtain- 
ed hope,  since  I  wrote  last.  I  was  sent  for  to-day,  to  see 
a  man  ninety-two  years  old,  who,  after  a  long  life  of  sin, 
is  awakened  in  his  old  age.  Hi>  situation,  on  the  whole, 
seems  encouraging,  though  he  is  nearly  blind  and  deaf 

"  Feb.  26. 

"  The  revival  has  been  advancing,  and  there  now 
seems  to  be  every  reason  to  hope,  that  God  has  begun  a 
great  work  among  us.  I  would  not  be  too  sanguine,  but 
things  look  more  favorable  than  they  have  for  seven  or 
eight  years.  Every  day,  I  have  two,  and  three,  and  four 
inquirers  to  see  me,  and  their  convic  ions  are  very  deep 
and  pungent.    Three  have  just  obtained  hope. 

I  rejoice  the  more  in  this  work,  because  it  enables  me 
to  stop  the  mouth  of  my  old  adversary,  and  to  prove  to  his 
face  t!iat  he  is  a  liar.  I  could  not  doubt  that  I  had  been 
enabled  to  pray  for  a  revival,  these  many  years.  Nor 
could  I  persuade  myself,  that  Christ  had  not  promised 
it  to  me.  Tlie  essence  of  a  promise  consists  in  voluntarily 
exciting  expectation  of  some  benefit.    In  this  sense,  a  re- 


KDWARI)  I'AYSON. 


381 


vival  had  often  been  promised  to  me.  And  when  it  was 
not  granted  ;  when,  one  time  after  another,  promising 
appearances  died  away  ;  and  especially,  when  I  was  left 
to  such  exercises  as  rendered  it  impossible  that  I  should 
ever  be  favored  with  a  revival, — Satan  had  a  fine  opportu- 
nity to  work  upon  rny  unbelief,  and  to  ask.  Where  is  your 
God  ?  what  do  you  get  by  praying  to  him  ?  and  where  is 
the  revival,  which  he  has  been  so  long  encouraging  you 
to  expect,  and  to  pray  for  ?  Now,  I  can  answer  these 
questions  triumphantly,  and  put  the  lying  tongue  to  si- 
lence. But  the  work  is  all  God's  ;  and  I  stand  and  look 
on  to  see  him  work  ;  and  tliis  is  favor  enough,  and  in- 
finitely more  than  I  deserve. 

"  You  spoke  in  your  last  of  poor  .  Rich,  you  would 

call  him  now,  if  you  could  see  him.    He  has  made  more 

progress  in  religion  since  ,  than  he  would  in  twenty 

years  of  ordinary  advancement.  I  feel  like  a  child,  when 
talking  with  him.  Truly  God's  ways  are  not  like  ours. — 
Meanwhile  poor  brother  Rand,  who  is  not  half  so  unde- 
serving of  a  revival,  as  I  am,  is  laid  aside,  just  as  soon  as 
favorable  symptoms  begin  to  appear.  His  physicians 
speak  very  discouragingly." 

"  3Iarc1i  7. — Preached  in  the  evening  to  the  largest  as- 
sembly that  I  had  ever  addressed  at  a  Thursday  lecture. 
Came  home  encouraged,  and  rejoicing  in  God.  The 
work  is  his — I  am  nothing,  and  love  to  be  nothing.  Dare 
not  promise  to  serve  God  more  faithfully.  However  ex- 
tensive a  revival  he  may  send,  I  shall  again  be  stupid 
and  ungrateful,  unless  he  prevent." 

"  March  17. 

"  The  revival  goes  on.  Fifteen,  we  hope,  are  convert- 
ed ;  and  four  times  that  number  under  deep  impressions. 
But  in  the  midst  of  it  I  am  laid  aside.  My  lungs  have 
been  failing  for  several  weeks,  and  I  can  preach  no  long- 
er. After  my  last  Thursday  lecture,  I  had  a  strange 
turn.  Every  body  thought  I  was  dying.  It  was  occa- 
sioned by  an  inability  in  the  heart,  to  free  itself  from  the 
blood,  which  poured  in  upon  it.  However,  the  doctor 
came,  and  took  a  large  quantity  of  blood,  which  relieved 


T 


382  MEMOIK  OF 

me.  But  I  am  just  as  I  was  last  spring  ;  and,  unless 
God  interposes  to  help  me,  shall  be  unable  to  preach  for 
weeks.  You  may  well  suppose,  that  this  is  a  trying  dis- 
pensation ;  but  so  far  I  am  kept  quiet  under  it.  1  feel 
that  it  is  not  only  just,  but  wise  and  kind.  Poor  brotlier 
Rand  is  in  the  same  situation.  The  revival  among  his 
people  increases,  but  he  can  do  nothing.  1  wish  P.  was 
here  ;  we  both  need  him." 

"  May  20,  1823. 

 "  Caesar,  speaking  of  one  of  his  many  battles, 

which  was  severely  contested,  observed  that,  on  former 
occasions,  he  had  fought  for  victory,  but  then  he  fought 
for  life.  Even  so  it  is  with  me.  Once  I  fought  for  vic- 
tory, and  no  ordinary  victory  would  satisfy  me  ;  but  my 
strength,  and  courage,  and  ambition,  are  now  so  crushed, 
that  I  fight  merely  for  life,  and  I  am  scarcely  able  to  se- 
cure even  that.  Still  I  hope  for  victory  ultimately.  I 
have  just  finished  a  sermon  on  Hezekiah's  petition — "  O 
Lord,  I  am  oppressed  ;  undertake  for  me."  It  has  given 
me  some  comfort  ;  it  ought  to  give  me  more.  Indeed,  if 
we  properly  considered  who  Christ  is,  and  what  he  has 
undertaken  to  do  for  us,  we  should  never  need  consola- 
tion ,  but  might,  like  St.  Paul,  though  sorrowful,  be  al- 
ways rejoicing  ;  and  say  with  him — "  Blessed  be  God, 
who  hath  blessed  us  with  all  spiritual  blessings  in  heaven- 
ly things  in  Christ  Jesus." — I  have  prepared  another  ser- 
mon from  a  succeeding  passage  in  the  same  chapter, — 
"  Thou  hast  in  love  to  my  soul,  delivered  it  from  the  pit 
of  corrviption.  The  words,  "  delivered  it,"  are  not  in 
the  original  ;  and,  as  father  Henry  observes,  the  passage 
may  be  read,  *  Thou  hast  loved  my  soul  from  the  pit  of 
corruption  ;  thou  hast  loved  my  soul  when  it  was  in  the 
pit  of  corruption,  and  thou  hast  loved  it  out  of  the  pit  of 
corruption  ;  not  merely  taken  it  out,  and  redeemed  it  out, 
but  Lved  it  out.'  " 

"  Ulay  25. 

"  My  sermon  on  Christ's  undertaking  for  us,  does  me 
more  and  more  good.  I  wisli  I  coulu  in  purt  to  }ou  some 
of  the  comfort  which  il  gives  me.    I  wish  to  get  away 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


S83 


from  frames  and  feelings,  and  live  continually  on  the  pre- 
cious truth,  '  Christ  has  undertaken  for  me.'  He  is  able  ; 
he  is  faithful,  he  will  keep  what  he  has  undertaken  to 
keep,  he  will  do  all  he  has  undertaken  to  do. — Another 
passage  has  been  very  sweet  to  me,  this  morning,  and  I 
think  I  shall  preach  upon  it,  next  Sabbath.  '  He  hath 
made  us  accepted  in  the  Beloved  '  To  be  accepted  of 
God,  to  be  accepted  in  his  beloved  Son — what  an  honor  ! 
what  a  privilege  !  Well  may  it  be  said  to  every  one  who 
enjoys  it — "  Go  thy  way,  eat  thy  bread  with  joy,  and 
drink  thy  wine  with  a  merry  heart ;  for  God  now  accept- 
eth  thy  works. 

"  Our  church  began,  last  winter,  to  employ  a  domestic 
missionary.  They  sent  him  to  a  town,  which  has  long 
been  without  a  minister  ;  and  where,  just  before,  a  vain 
attempt  had  been  made  to  raise  one  hundred  dollars  to 
pay  for  preaching.  His  labors  produced  such  effect,  that 
they  have  now  raised  a  permanent  fund,  which  will  sup- 
port a  minister  forever.  They  have  also  given  our  mis- 
sionary a  unanimous  call  to  settle  with  them.  We  shall 
make  a  similar  experiment  in  another  town,  as  soon  as  we 
can  find  a  suitable  missionary.  How  much  is  money 
worth  at  such  a  time  as  this  !  " 

Dr.  Payson  describes  a  species  of  trial,  to  which  he  was 
twice  subjected,  that  will  probably  surprise  all  who  were 
acquainted  with  his  strong  confidence  in  revelation,  and 
his  rich  experience  in  the  consolations  of  religion.  It 
shows  most  vividly  the  awful  malice  of  the  "  accuser  of 
the  brethren,"  whose  power  to  distress  Christians,  as  well 
as  his  agency  among  "  the  children  of  disobedience,"  is 
greatly  underrated  at  the  present  day  ;  and  even  his  ex- 
'istence  is  extensively  doubted.  Against  the  servant  of 
God,  who  was  making  such  inroads  upon  his  kingdom, 
he  seems  to  have  directed  all  his  "  fiery  darts."  They 
gave  temporary  pftin,  but  inflicted  no  mortal  wound.  The 
adversary  was  foiled. 

"Dec.  5,  1823. 

 "  I  have  been  sick,  and  laid  by  from  preaching 

on  Thanksgiving  day,  and  two  Sabbaths,  but  am  now 


384 


MEMOIR  OF 


able  to  resume  my  labors.  But  O,  the  temptations, 
which  have  harassed  me  for  the  last  three  months !  I 
have  met  with  nothing  like  them  in  books.  I  dare  not 
mention  them  to  any  mortal,  lest  they  should  trouble  him, 
as  they  have  troubled  me  ;  but  should  I  become  an  apos- 
tate, and  write  against  religion,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  could 
bring  forward  objections,  which  would  shake  the  faith 
of  all  the  Christians  in  the  world.  What  I  marvel  at  is, 
that  the  arch  deceiver  has  never  been  permitted  to  sug- 
gest them  to  some  of  his  scribes,  and  have  them  publish- 
ed. They  would,  or  I  am  much  mistaken,  make  fearful 
work  with  Christians  for  a  time  ;  though  God  would, 
doubtless,  enable  them  to  overcome  in  the  end.  It  seems 
to  me,  that  my  state  has  been  far  worse  than  that  of  Man- 
soul  was,  when  Diabolus  and  his  legions  broke  into  the 
town.  They  could  not  get  into  the  castle,  the  heart ;  but 
my  castle  was  full  of  them. — But  do  not  be  troubled  for 
me,  I  am  now  better.  Let  me  then  try  to  comfort  my 
mother." 

The  other  passage,  depicting  a  similar  conflict,  was 
written  about  a  year  and  a  half  after  the  above  : 

"  It  seems  to  me,  that  those  who  die  young,  like  Brain- 
erd  and  Martyn,  knew  almost  nothing  of  the  difficulty  of 
persevering  in  the  Christian  race.  My  difficulties  in- 
crease every  year.  There  is  one  trial,  which  you  cannot 
know  experimentally,  it  is  that  of  being  obliged  to 
preach  to  others,  when  one  doubts  of  every  thing,  and 
can  scarcely  believe  that  there  is  a  God.  AH  the  atheis- 
tical, deistical,  and  heretical  objections,  which  I  meet 
with  in  books,  are  childish  babblings,  compared  with 
those,  which  Satan  suggests,  and  which  he  urges  upon 
the  mind  with  a  force  which  seems  irresistible.  Yet  I 
am  often  obliged  to  write  sermons,  and  to  preach,  when 
these  objections  beat  upon  me  like  a  whirlwind  ;  and  al- 
most distract  me. — When  he  asks,  as  he  does  continually 
ask,  what  have  you  gained  by  all  your  prayers  ?  [  know 
not  what  to  reply.  However,  pray  I  must,  and,  God  as- 
sisting me,  pray  I  will.    The  way  is  indeed  difficult,  but 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  385 

I  can  devise  no  other  which  is  not  more  so.  There  is  no 
one  to  whom  1  can  go,  if  I  forsake  Christ." 

"  Jan.  1,  1824.  Rose  early  and  tried  to  pray  ;  but  a 
weak,  languid  frame  crushed  me  down.  I  have,  howev- 
er, reason  to  bless  God,  that  he  allows  such  a  wretch  as  I 
am  to  serve  him  at  all.  Groaned  and  struggled  with  my 
weakness  before  God. — Read  a  number  of  passages  in 
my  diary,  especially  what  is  recorded  under  date  of  Dec. 
16,  1815.  Am  glad  I  kept  a  Journal.  I  had,  otherwise, 
forgotten  much  of  what  I  have  done  against  God,  and  of 
what  he  has  done  for  me.  Was  confounded  at  what  I 
read.  My  words  are  swallowed  up.  My  life,  my  minis- 
try has  been  madness,  madness  !  What  shall  I  do  ? 
where  shall  I  hide  ?  To  sin,  after  I  had  sinned  so  much, 
and  after  I  had  been  forgiven  !  But  I  cannot  write  !  I 
cannot  think  !  And  if  my  sins  appear  so  black  in  my 
book,  how  do  they  appear  in  God's  ! 

"  Jan.  29. — Have  had  much  to  be  thankful  for,  and 
much  to  be  ashamed  of,  for  some  days  past.  God  has  been 
more  than  ordinarily  gracious  to  me,  granting  me  liberty 
of  access  to  him  in  prayer,  and  permitting  me  to  be,  in 
some  degree,  useful.  1  have  received  many  tokens  of 
warm  affection  from  his  people,  and  been  assisted  in  my 
work  ....  Have  learned  a  lesson,  which  I  ought  to  have 
learned  before.  I  am  religiously  romantic.  I  am  al- 
ways expecting  something  out  of  the  common  course,  and 
planning  what  God  is  going  to  do. 

"  May  15. — Rode  to  G.  to  give  them  a  day's  preach- 
ing, as  they  are  destitute.  Took  up  a  poor  cripple  by 
the  way,  and  preached  Christ  to  him.  Felt  some  pity 
and  love  for  him,  while  talking.  A  curious  combination 
of  circumstances  threw  him  in  my  way.  Could  not  but 
think  how  we  both  should  admire  the  leadings  of  Provi- 
•dence,  if  he  should  be  converted  in  consequence  of  what 
was  said  to  him. 

"  July  20. — Perplexed  what  to  do.  My  people  wish 
me  to  go  to  Europe.    Tried  to  commit  the  case  to  God. 

Oct.  17. — Slept  none  last  night,  and  my  sufferings  were 
great.  My  right  arm  seems  about  to  perish.  Could  say, 
God's  will  be  done. 

33 


o6G  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Nov.  7. — What  I  have  long  feared  is  come  upon  nie 
My  voice  and  ray  faculties  are  half  gone  already,  and 
what  remains  is  rapidly  departing. 

"  Nov.  27. — Was  favored  with  a  most  precious  season 
in  prayer.  Had  such  views  of  God  and  Christ  !  Lay 
and  mourned  at  his  feet,  till  I  was  exhausted,  and  longed 
unutterably  to  be  more  holy,  and  to  have  others  holy. 
O,  what  reason  have  I  to  bless  God  for  this  ! 

"  January  5,  1825. — At  the  concert  on  Monday,  rec- 
ommended to  the  church  to  imitate  the  Lord's  prayer,  and 
always  begin  their  supplications  with  praying  that  God's 
name  may  be  glorified.  Have  derived  much  benefit  from 
pursuing  this  practice.  Made  eleven  visits,  and  felt  thank- 
ful for  having  strength  to  do  it. 

"  Jan.  31. — Felt  very  happy  and  dead  to  the  world,  all 
day.  Rejoiced  in  God,  and  cared  not  what  he  did  with 
me. 

"  Feb.  9. — Had  a  delightful  season  in  prayer.  It 
seemed  as  if  it  was  only  to  ask  and  receive.  Had  noth- 
ing to  ask  for  myself,  except  that  I  might  be  swallowed 
up  in  the  will  of  God. 

"  Ftb.  15,  16. — Much  engaged  in  visiting.  Went  to 
the  utmost  extent  of  my  strength.  Felt  insatiable  desires 
for  more  holiness." 

"  Boiton,  March  21,  1825. 

"  My  dear  Mother, 

"  I  value  your  letters  much,  and  your  prayers  still 
more  ;  and  sometimes  think,  that  your  life  is  preserved, 
principally,  to  pray  for  your  children.  It  will  be  found,  I 
doubt  not,  in  the  coming  world,  that  ministers  had  much 
less  share  in  the  success,  which  attends  their  labors,  than 
is  now  supposed.  It  will  be  found,  that,  if  they  drew  the 
bow,  the  prayers  of  Christians  pointed  and  guided  the  ar- 
row. I  pleached,  last  evening,  to  an  immense  concourse 
of  people.  After  the  pews  were  filled,  seats  were  brought 
in,  and  placed  in  all  the  aisles.  So  far  as  I  know,  how- 
ever, very  little  good  has  been  done  by  my  labors  here. 
But  I  desire  to  leave  it  all  with  God.    I  am  astonished  and 


KDVVAUl)  i'AYSON.  oS7 

ashamed  by  the  kindness  with  which  his  people  here  treat 
me.  #  #  *  * 

"  You  express  a  wish  that  my  feelings  were  more 
equable.  I  wish  they  were.  But  I  am  so  completely 
wretched,  when  God  withdraws  from  me,  that  the  remo- 
val of  that  wretchedness  by  his  return,  renders  me  almost 
too  happy. — This  thought  has  lately  been  of  some  service 
to  me.  Every  Christian  ought  to  love  God  in  proportion 
to  what  has  been  forgiven  him.  But  every  Christian 
knows  more  evil  of  himself,  than  he  can  know  of  any  oth- 
er human  being.  He  ought,  therefore,  to  feel  as  if  more 
had  been  forgiven  him,  and  as  if  he  were  under  greater 
obligations  to  love  God,  than  any  other  human  being  ;  as 
if  it  were  worse  for  him  to  sin  against  God,  than  it  would 
be  for  any  other." 

"  Portland,  July  27. 

 "  I  had  attempted  to  observe  my  birth  day,  as  a 

day  of  prayer,  but  apparently  to  no  purpose.  1  was  .so 
unwell,  that  I  could  do  nothing.  However,  the  next  day, 
the  blessings  which  I  wished  to  ask  for,  but  could  not, 
were  bestowed.  I  need  not  tell  you  how  sweet,  how 
soothing,  how  refreshing,  Christ's  returning  presence  is, 
after  long  absence.  Still,  I  am  borne  down'  in  such  a 
manner  by  ill  health,  that  I  can  but  half  rejoice.  The 
state  of  religion  among  us  helps,  also,  to  crush  me. — 
There  never  has  been  so  entire  a  suspension  of  divine  in- 
fluences, since  my  settlement,  as  at  present.  Those  of 
the  church,  who  are  most  spiritual,  tell  me  that  they  nev- 
er found  it  so  difficult  to  perform  religious  duties,  as  they 
do  now.  In  fine,  the  church  seems  to  be  on  Banyan's 
enchanted  ground,  and  many  of  them  are  sleeping  in  some 
of  the  arbors  which  he  mentions.  Whether  they  will 
wake  before  death,  seems  doubtful." 

Sept.  29. 

 "  I  preached,  last  Sabbath,  on  being  guilty  of 

the  blood  of  souls  ;  and  endeavored  to  point  out  some  of 
the  ways,  in  which  we  may  incur  this  guilt.  I  have  in- 
curred but  too  much  of  it;  and  it  lies  upon  me  with  a 
weight,  which  I  know  not  how  to  bear,  but  which  1  can- 


388 


MEMOIR  OF 


not  throw  off.    True,  blood  has  been  shed  for  us,  which 

has  efficacy  to  take  away  the  guilt  of  blood.  But  though 
this  consideration  may  keep  us  from  despair,  it  cannot 
shield  us,  or,  at  least,  cannot  shield  one,  whose  guilt  is 
like  mine,  from  the  sufferings  occasioned  by  self-reproach, 
and  a  wounded  spirit.  I  seldom  think  of  the  time  I  spent 
in  B,  without  a  pang,  the  keenness  of  which  you  cannot 
easily  conceive.  It  is  a  painful  thought,  that  we  are  so 
long  in  learning  how  to  live,  that,  ere  the  lesson  is  well 
learned,  life  is  spent. — Another  subject,  on  which  I  have 
lately  been  writing,  and  which  has  assisted  to  increase 
my  depression,  was  suggested  by  the  passage — "  Even 
Christ  pleased  not  himself."  If  any  one,  who  ever  lived 
in  this  world,  had  a  right  to  please  himself,  he  surely  had 
such  a  right ;  yet  how  far  was  he  from  exercising  or 
claiming  it !  He  evidently  adopted  and  acted  upon  the 
principle,  that,  as  man,  he  was  not  his  own ;  that  he  be- 
longed to  God,  and  to  the  universe,  and  that  he  must  do 
nothing  merely  for  the  sake  of  promoting  his  own  person- 
al gratification.  I  contemplate  this  example  with  feelings 
similar  to  those,  with  which  a  child,  who  has  just  begun 
to  hold  a  pen,  may  be  supposed  to  look  upon  a  superb 
copper-plate,  which  he  is  required  to  imitate  ;  or  rather, 
with  such  feelings,  as  one  might  indulge,  who  had  been 
learning  to  write  for  many  years,  and  yet  found  himself 
further  from  resembling  his  copy,  than  he  was  at  first." 

"  Nov.  4. — Quarterly  Fast.  Went  to  meeting  feeling 
very  unwell,  and  found  very  few  assembled.  Was  obli- 
ged to  wait  half  an  hour  before  there  was  a  sufficient  num- 
ber to  sing.  Was  entirely  overcome  by  discouragement. 
Could  not  say  a  word  ;  and,  after  struggling  in  vain  with 
my  feelings,  was  obliged  to  state  them  to  the  church,  and 
come  away. 

'■Nov.  9. — Installation  of  a  minister  over  the  Third 
Church,  to-day.  Have  reason  to  be  thankful,  that  I  have 
been  carried  through  this  business  of  separation  so  well, 
and  that  affection  for  those  who  have  left  us  is  rather  in= 
creased  than  diminished." 

This  last  date  brings  us  down  to  a  period,  from  which 


EDWABD  PAYSON. 


389 


his  health  may  be  said  to  have  been  constantly  declining, 
The  progress  of  the  maladies  which  were  wasting  away 
his  frame,  may  have  been  stayed  for  a  few  days  or  weeks 
in  succession,  after  this  ;  but  their  hold  on  him  was  never 
more  weakened.  The  winter  succeeding  was  one  of  in- 
firmity and  suffering.  He  continued  to  preach  on  the 
Sabbath  ;  but  the  exhaustion  consequent  upon  tl  e  exer- 
tion, often  rendered  it  difficult  for  him  to  reach  his  home, 
distant  but  a  few  rods.  So  much  overcome  was  he,  as  to 
be  physically  unable  to  lead  the  devotions  of  his  own  fam- 
ily ;  and  his  Sabbath  nights  were  nights  of  restlessness 
and  anguish.  Still,  when  holy  time  again  returned,  he 
longed  for  the  habitation  of  God's  house,  and  again  re- 
peated his  efforts,  and  with  similar  consequences. 

Observing  with  alarm  this  prostration  of  his  strength, 
his  people,  in  the  .spring  of  182G,  resolved  upon  an  alter- 
ation of  their  meeting-house  with  a  view  to  his  relief. 
The  ceiling  was  brought  down  and  arched,  and  the  floor 
inclined  towards  the  pulpit,  by  which  changes  more  than 
one-third  of  the  space  to  be  filled  by  the  speaker's  voice 
was  excluded,  and  the  difBculty  of  filling  it,  diminished 
in  a  still  greater  proportion.  It  was  while  this  alteration 
was  in  progress,  that  he  made  his  circuitous  and  last  jour- 
ney to  the  springs,  which  has  already  been  mentioned. 

On  arriving  there,  he  said  to  Wr.  Vv  iielpley,  in  allusion 
to  his  health — '  1  am  in  pursuit  of  a  good,  which  is  con- 
stantly flying  before  me,  and  which,  I  appiehend,  will 
forever  elude  my  grasp.' — '  The  incessant  and  unremit- 
ted labor  of  years,'  adds  Mr.  W.,  '  seemed  to  have  left 
him  but  a  mtrc  wreck  of  being,  which  he  longed  to  be  rid 
of  to  serve  God  in  a  region  of  perfect  health)  and  bound- 
less activ  ity.  He  had  little  expectation  of  recovering  his 
health,  and  several  times  remarked,  that,  if  it  was  the  will 
of  God  to  take  him  away  speedily,  it  was  no  matter  how 
soon  he  departed.  The  idea  of  wearing  out  his  days  in  a 
state  of  inactivity  and  consequent  depression,  was  dis- 
tressing to  him,  and  made  him  deeply  solicitous  to  have 
the  question  of  life  and  death  fully  settled.  Sometimes^ 
said  he,  when  I  retire  to  bed,  I  .'-hould  be  happy  to  have 
it  the  last  night  of  my  life.  With  Job  he  might  say — "  I 
am  made  to  possess  months  of  'Canity,  and  wearisome 
nights  are  appointed  unto  nie.    When  I  lie  down,  1  say, 


390 


MEivrom  OF 


when  shall  I  arise,  and  the  night  be  gone  ?  I  am  full  of 
tossings  to  and  fro  unto  the  dawning  of  the  day  ! — When 
I  say,  my  bed  shall  comfort  me,  and  my  couch  shall  ease 
my  complaint ;  then  thou  scarest  me  with  dreams,  and 
terrifiest  me  with  night  visions  :  So  that  my  soul  chooseth 
strangling  and  death  rather  than  life. — I  loathe  it,  I  would 
Hot  not  live  alway."  ' 

Mr.  Whelpley  imagined, — and  in  this  he  was  unques- 
tionably correct, — that  the  sufferings  of  Dr.  Payson  were 
greater  than  any  one  knew  or  suspected ;  and,  he  adds, 
'  they  were  endured,  for  the  most,  in  silence.  At  mid- 
night he  would  arise  and  walk  his  room,  singing  some 
plaintive  air.  At  first,  I  knew  not  what  to  make  of  the 
unwonted  and  mournful  sounds,  which  broke  in  upon  my 
slumbers ;  and  often,  as  the  sound  softly  died  away,  my 
soul  was  filled  with  sadness. — He  complained  much  of 
his  head.  In  one  conversation,  he  dwelt  particularly  on 
the  causes  which  had  operated  to  undermine  and  destroy 
his  health.  Among  them  was  his  great  and  increasing 
anxiety  for  a  general  and  powerful  revival  of  religion  a- 
mong  his  people  ;  his  incessant  labors  to  secure  so  great  a 
blessing,  and  the  repeated  disappointments  he  had  expe- 
rienced from  year  to  year.  We  would  seem,  said  Dr. 
Payson,  to  be  on  the  eve  of  an  extensive  revival,  and  my 
hopes  would  be  correspondently  raised  ;  and  then  the  fa- 
vorable appearances  would  vanish  away.  Under  the  pow- 
erful excitement  of  hope,  and  under  the  succeeding  de- 
pression arising  from  disappointment,  my  strength  failed, 
and  I  sunk  rapidly  under  my  labors.  He  spoke  of  having 
been  under  a  temptation,  constantly,  to  labor  beyond  his 
strength ;  and  believed  many  a  faithful  minister  had  thus 
been  tempted  by  satan  to  cut  short  his  days.  In  this  way 
his  own  life  had  been  shortened.  When  in  a  season  of 
excitement,  he  had  exhausted  his  whole  strength,  even 
then  satan  suggested  that  he  had  not  done  enough,  but 
must  do  much  more,  or  be  counted  unfaithful.' 

If  the  proofs  of  his  disinterestedness  were  not  so  a- 
bundant  and  conclusive,  this  ceaseless  anxiety  for  a  re- 
vival could  hardly  be  regarded  otherwise  than  as  sinful 
impatience,  and  as  indicating  a  want  of  gratitude  for  what 
God  did  perform  by  him.  It  appears  the  more  remarka- 
ble, when  contemplated  in  connection  with  the  fact,  that 


KDWARD  PAYSON. 


391 


the  church  was  continually  growing  under  his  ministra- 
tions, and  the  congregation  enlarging,  till  there  was  not 
room  enough  to  receive  them.  There  are  many  good 
ministers,  who  would  consider  themselves  favored  by  such 
a  measure  of  success  as  attended  his  least  honored  labors. 
In  no  year  of  his  miiiistry  did  his  church  receive  less 
than  ten  new  members,  and  in  only  one  year  so  small  a 
number ;  while  at  another  time,  the  yearly  increase  was 
seventy-three,  and  in  the  year  of  his  death,  seventy-nine; 
and  the  average  number,  was  more  than  thirty-five  a  year 
during  the  whole  of  his  ministry.  If  there  were  an  en- 
tire suspension  of  divine  influences  at  any  time,  it  was  of 
temporary  duration.  Judging  from  the  accessions  made 
to  the  church,  tliere  must  iiave  been  a  constant  and  grad- 
ual work  of  God.  If  the  term  of  his  ministry  be  divided 
into  periods  of  five  years,  the  number,  added  in  each  pe- 
riod, differs  ftom  tliat  of  every  other  period,  by  a  com- 
paratively small  number.  The  difference  is  in  favor  of 
the  first  two  periods,  when  with  fewer  bodily  infirmities 
he  '  ceased  not  daily,  and  from  house  to  house,  to  testify 
repentance  towards  God,  and  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.' 

About  mid-summer  he  returned  from  his  last  excursion 
abroad  to  the  bosom  of  his  family  and  flock,  and  continued 
to  employ  the  little  strengtli  which  remained,  in  making 
known  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified.  From  tliis  labor 
no  entreaties  could  prevail  with  him  to  desist.  He  con- 
tinued to  occupy  his  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath,  for  the  most 
part,  through  the  following  winter  ;  notwithstanding  parts 
of  his  body,  particularly  his  right  arm,  had  already  begun 
to  perish,  and  were  not  only  useless,  but  an  incumbrance. 
But  while  '  tlie  outward  man  decr\yed,  the  inward  n;an  was 
renewed  day  by  day.'  This  is,  in  a  degree,  true  of  his 
mental  faculties,  as  well  as  of  his  religious  progress  The 
coruscations  of  his  intellect  delighted  and  astonished  his 
visiters.  Among  these  was  the  Secretary  of  the  A- 
merican  Education  Society,  who  asking  Dr.  Payson  for  a 
message  which  he  might  carry  from  him  to  beneficiaries, 
received  the  following  impromptu  : 

"  What  if  God  should  place  in  your  hand  a  diamond, 
and  tell  you  to  inscribe  on  it  a  sentence  which  should  be 


392 


MEMOIR  OB' 


read  at  the  last  day,  and  shown  there  as  an  index  of  yom 
own  thoughts  and  feelings  ?  what  care,  what  caution  would 
you  exercise  in  the  selection  !  INow  this  is  what  God  has 
done.  He  has  placed  before  you  immortal  minds,  more 
imperishable  than  the  diamond,  on  which  you  are  about 
to  inscribe  every  day  and  every  hour  by  your  instructions, 
by  your  spirit,  or  by  your  example,  something  which  will 
remain  and  be  exhibited  for,  or  against  you,  at  the  judg- 
ment day." 

We  shall  close  our  extracts  and  this  chapter  with  two 
short  letters  to  his  mother,  the  last  he  ever  wrote  : — 

Feh.  1,  1827. 

"My  dear  Mother, 

I  have  just  received  your  letter ;  and  though  I  am 
obliged  to  write  with  my  lelt  hand,  and  that  is  numb,  I 
must  try  to  scratch  a  few  lines  in  reply.  I  am  no  better ; 
am  toler.ibly  contented  and  happy,  but  have  not  much 
sensible  consolation.  We  have  increasing  evidence  that 
L.  is  become  pious  ;  but  E.,  who  seemed  to  be  in  a  prom- 
ising way,  has  lost  his  impressions.  You  have  probably 
heard,  that  Mr.  R.  has  hopes  that  H.  is  converted.  We 
have  about  a  dozen  hopeful  converts,  and  appearances 
are  encouraging. — I  have  much  to  be  thanktul  tor.  Wife, 
children,  and  pe  pie,  ail  try  to  minister  to  my  comfort.—- 
I  rejoice  to  hear,  that  your  mind  is  in  so  desirable  a  Irame, 
though  I  expected  no  less.  God  has  not  led  you  so  far 
to  forsake  you  at  last.  Should  you  be  taken  away  before 
me,  I  shall  feel  as  Elisha  did,  when  he  lo.'^t  Elijah  ;  for  I 
doubt  not  your  prayers  have  been  of  great  service  to  me. 
I  received  a  letter  from  G.  lately,  inviting  me  to  come 
and  spend  part  of  the  winter  at  Newyork.  I  thank  him, 
but  1  cannot  come.  Home  is  the  only  place  for  a  cripple, 
who  can  neither  dress  nor  undress  himself;  besides,  f 
can  be  of  some  service  to  my  people,  while  here.  I  have 
many  tilings  to  say  ;  but  writing  is  so  wearisome  and  pain- 
ful, that  I  can  add  nothing  more.  Assure  G.  and  E.  of 
my  warmest  love,  and  believe  me 

Your  affectionate  son> 


Feb.  20. 

"  My  dear  Mother, 

I  wrote  the  inclosed  letter,  three  weeks  since,  and  sent 
it  with  the  money  by  a  man,  who  said  he  was  going  to 
Newyork  ;  but  after  I  hoped  it  had  arrived  there,  it  came 
back  to  me  again. — 1  have  just  received  your  last  letter, 
and  what  shall  I  say  in  reply  ?  If  my  hand  would  per- 
mit, I  could  say  much  ;  if  my  health  would  allow  of  it,  I 
would  come  and  see  you.  As  it  is,  I  can  only  say,  God 
be  with  you,  my  dear  mother,  and  bless  you,  as  he  has 
made  you  a  blessing  to  me.  If  it  be  his  will,  that  we 
should  not  meet  again  in  this  world,  I  must  say — farewell, 
for  a  short  time  ;  for  short,  I  trust,  will  be  the  time,  be- 
fore we  meet  again.  Farewell,  then,  my  dear,  dear  moth- 
er !  for  a  short  time,  farewell  !" 

It  proved  to  be  the  last  farewell.  His  mother,  a  few 
days  afterwards,  was  called  to  her  eternal  home. 


394 


MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  XX. 

His  last  tabors. — His  spiritual  joys,  heavenly  counsels, 
and  brightening  intellect,  during  the  progress  of  his 
disease — his  triumphant  exit. — Conclusion. 

Dr.  Payson  was,  at  length,  compelled  to  yield  to  the 
irresistible  power  of  disease.  Parts  of  his  body,  including 
his  right  arm  and  left  side,  were  very  singularly  affected. 
They  were  incapable  of  motion,  and  lost  all  sense  of  feel- 
ing externally  ;  while  in  the  interior  parts  of  the  limbs 
thus  affected,  he  experienced,  at  intervals,  a  most  intense 
burning  sensation,  which  he  compared  to  a  stream  of  fu- 
sed metal,  or  liquid  fire,  coursing  through  his  bones.  No 
external  applications  were  of  the  least  service;  and  in  ad- 
dition to  his  acute  sufferings  from  this  source,  he  was  fre- 
quently subject  to  most  violent  attacks  of  nervous  head- 
ache. 

It  was  with  great  reluctance  that  he  relinquished 
preaching.  '  The  spirit  continued  willing,'  long  after  the 
'  flesh  failed.'  But  who  can  resist  the  appointment  of 
heaven!  The  decree  had  gone  forth,  that  he  must  die  ; 
and  the  progress  of  his  complicated  maladies  declared 
but  too  unequivocally  that  the  decree  must  soon  be  exe- 
cuted. He  did  not,  however,  cease  preaching  at  once  ; 
but,  at  first,  secure.!  as.=istance  for  half  the  day  only.  An 
arrangement  to  this  effect,  which  was  expected  to  conti- 
nue several  weeks,  commenced  on  the  second  Monday  of 
March.  He  occupied  the  pulpit  in  the  morning.  His 
text  was.  The  word  of  the  Lord  is  tried.  The  sermon 
was  not  written,  of  course ;  but  no  one,  that  he  ever 
wrote,  not  even  his  celebrated  discourse  on  the  Bible, 
was  more  instructive  and  eloquent,  than  this — particular- 
ly those  parts,  in  which  he  described  the  trials  to  which 
the  W':rd  of  the  Lord  had  been  subjected  by  its  enemies, 
and  the  tests  of  a  different  character  which  it  had  sustain- 
ed from  its  friends.  Never,  scarcely,  were  the  mightiest 
infidels  made  to  appear  so  puny,  insignificant,  and  fool- 


EDWAKD  PAY30N. 


395 


ish.  "  He  who  sitteth  in  the  heavens"  could  ahnost  be 
seen  *  deriding  them.'  When  describing  the  manner  in 
which  Christians  had  tried  it,  he  '  spoke  out  of  the  abun- 
dance of  his  heart.'  Experience  aided  his  eloquence, 
and  added  strength  to  the  conviction  which  it  wrought. 
And  it  would  have  been  listened  to  with  a  still  greater  in- 
tenseness  of  interest,  had  his  own  trials,  mentioned  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  been  known.  The  application  of  the 
subject  to  his  auditory  must  be  left  for  imagination  to  sup- 
ply ;  for  it  cannot  be  conveyed  on  paper. 

On  pronouncing  the  blessing,  he  requested  the  con- 
gregation to  resume  their  seats.  He  descended  from  the 
pulpit,  and  took  his  station  jn  front  of  it,  and  commenced 
a  most  solemn  appeal  to  the  assembly.  He  began  with  a 
recognition  of  that  feeling  in  an  auditory,  which  leads 
them  to  treat  a  minister's  exhortations,  as  if  they  were 
merely  a  discharge  of  professional  duty,  by  one  placed 
above  them,  and  having  little  sympathy  with  them.  *  I 
now  put  aside  the  minister,'  said  he  ;  '  I  come  down 
among  you,  place  myself  on  a  visible  equality;  I  address 
you  as  a  fellow  man,  a  friend,  a  brother,  and  fellow  travel- 
ler to  the  bar  of  God  ;  as  one  equally  interested  with  your- 
selves in  the  truths  which  1  have  '  been  declaring' '  He 
then  gave  vent  to  the  struggling  emotions  of  his  heart,  in  a 
strain  of  affectionate  entreaty,  expressing  the  most  anxious 
desires  for  their  salvation.  In  conclusion,  he  referred  them 
to  the  common  practice,  when  men  have  any  great  object 
to  accomplish,  of  assembling  together,  and  adopting  reso- 
lutions, expressive  of  their  conrictions  and  purposes  ;  and 
he  wished  his  hearers  to  follow  him  in  a  series,  which  he 
was  about  to  propose,  and  to  adopt  them,  not  by  any  visi- 
•  ble  act  or  expression,  but  mentally,  if  they  thought  them 
of  sufficient  importance,  and  could  do  it  sincerely.  One 
resolution  expressed  a  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  Bi- 
ble; another,  of  criminal  indifference  to  its  momentous 
disclosures ;  another  acknowledged  the  claims  of  Jeho- 
vah;  another,  the  paramount  importance  of  attention  to 
the  concerns  of  the  soul ;  and  another,  the  purpose  to 
seek  its  salvation  without  delay.  Though  his  withered 
right  arm  hung  helpless  by  his  side,  yet  he  seemed  "  in- 


396 


MEMOIR  OF 


stinct  with  life ;"  and  every  successive  resolution  was 
rendered  emphatic  by  a  gesture  of  the  left.* 

In  all  his  public  ministrations,  during  this  period,  when 
his  body  was  sinking  towards  the  grave,  there  was  a  sin- 
gular adaptedness  of  truth  to  existing  circumstances. 
The  subjects  upon  which  he  expatiated  were  in  unison 
with  his  condition,  as  a  servant  of  God  ripening  fast  for 
heaven.  There  was  much  of  the  nature  of  testimony  for 
God.  He  omitted  no  opportunity,  public  or  private,  to 
maintain  the  honor  and  perfections  of  him,  whose  am- 
bassador he  was.  He  could  scarcely  utter  a  word,  with- 
out rendering  it  obvious  to  all  who  heard  him,  that  God 
was  higher  in  his  esteem,  than  any,  than  all  created  be- 
ings. One  illustration  of  this  statement  was  afforded  by 
a  sermon  which  he  preached  as  late  as  the  last  Sabbath  in 
April,  from  2  Samuel  XVni.  3.  Tliou  art  worth  ten 
thousand  of  us.  Parts  of  this  sermon  arc  reported  from 
recollection,  by  his  eldest  daughter,  who  has  been  the 
most  successful — where  all  fail — in  retaining  his  charac- 
teristic expressions. 

The  text,  which  was  addressed  to  David  by  his  sub- 
jects. Dr.  Payson  applied  to  Jehovah,  and  illustrated  its 
truth  in  this  application  by  a  variety  of  methods,  showing 
that  God  is  worth  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  of  hu- 
man beings  ; — yea,  worth  more  than  all  the  creatures, 
that  ever  have  been,  and  all  that  ever  will  be  created  : — 

*  Among  his  various  methods  of  drawing  attention  to  tlie  subject 
of  religion,  might  have  been  mentioned  the  following,  had  it  not 
been  overlooked, — which  is  here  inserted,  though  out  of  its  proper 
place,  as  a  practical  hint. 

"  Once  in  tlie  course  of  my  ministry,  I  made  an  analysis  of  all 
the  sermons  which  I  had  preached  to  my  people  for  six  months, 
and  embodied  it  in  one  sermon,  and  preached  it  to  them.  They 
were  astonished,  and  I  was  astonished  at  the  amount  of  truth  which 
had  been  presented  to  them,  and,  to  human  appearance,  with  very 
little  effect." — How  appropriate  to  this  beloved  pastor  are  the  lines 
of  Goldsmith  : 

"  And  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 
To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies  ; 
He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay, 
Allared  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way." 


EDWARl")  I'AYSON. 


397 


"  Suppose  you  take  the  capacity  for  happincbs,  which 
has  been  said  by  philosophers  to  be  the  only  true  stand- 
ard of  perfection  : — if  the  happiness  which  God  enjoys 
were  divided  into  portions,  each  of  which  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  fill  an  archangel  to  overflowing,  there  would  be 
an  infinite  number  of  those  portions.  God's  happiness  is 
not  merely  a  fountain,  but  an  ocean  without  bottom  or 
shore.  And  this  should  be  a  never-failing  source  of  con- 
solation to  the  Christian,  when  he  reflects  on  all  the  mis- 
ery in  the  world,  that  still  happiness  predominates  ; — for 
God  is  infinitely — infinitely  happy. 

"  The  man  who  should  go  round  the  universe — sup- 
pose, if  you  will,  that  each  of  the  seventy-five  millions  of 
stars  known  to  us,  is  the  centre  of  a  system,  and  that 
each  of  these  innumerable  worlds  is  as  populous  as  our 
own  ; — yet  the  man,  who  should  at  one  fell  stroke,  fill  all 
these  countless  myriads  of  beings  to  the  very  brim  with 
wretchedness,  would  do  infinitely  less  mischief,  than  he 
who  should,  if  that  were  possible,  destroy  the  happiness 
of  Jehovah.  In  the  first  instance,  it  would  be  but  poi- 
soning the  streams  ;  in  the  latter,  the  fountain  itself  would 
be  turned  into  bitterness. 

"  Thus  we  have  proved  that  God  is  worth  infinitely 
more  than  all  his  creatures.  But  instead  of  acknowledg- 
ing and  feeling  this,  men  practically  exalt  themselves, 
ten  thousand  times  above  God.  They  think  ten  thousand 
times  as  much  of  themselves,  as  of  God  ;  an  injury,  done 
to  themselves,  affects  them  ten  thousand  times  as  much, 
as  one  done  to  God  :  and  Jehovah  sees  himself  cast  down 
— down — down  from  his  throne,  to  make  room  for  little 
insignificant  worms  of  the  dust.  And  what  can  be  worse 
than  this !  Men  talk  about  degrees  of  wickedness,  be- 
cause some  have  broken  the  laws  of  their  country,  and 
others  have  not ;  but  this  undervaluing  and  degrading 
their  Maker  is  what  all  have  done  ;  and  it  is  not  possible 
to  go  farther  in  wickedness.  Yes  ;  this  is  what  1  have 
done, — and  I  desire  to  make  the  confession  with  shame — 
I  have  done  this  ;  and  you  have  done  this,  my  hearers. 
In  the  presence  of  this  much  insulted  God,  I  must  charge 
it  upon  you.  And  I  tell  you,  my  hearers,  if  you  do  not 
repent  of  this  conduct,  God  will  be  obliged  to  put  you 
down — down — down,  as  low  as  you  have  degraded  him. 


398 


MEMOIR  OK 


If  he  should  not  do  this,  if,  out  of  false  pity  to  one  individ- 
ual, he  should  pardon  you  without  repentance  ;  that  in- 
stant, all  the  songs  of  heaven  would  stop,  and  all  the  hap- 
piness of  the  Universe  would  be  dried  up.  Heaven,  the 
habitation  of  God's  glory,  where  myriads  of  celestial  in- 
telligences are  contemplating  his  infinite  perfections, 
would  become  from  a  place  of  perfect  and  unmingled 
happiness,  a  scene  of  unutterable,  inconceivable  misery. 
"  Jehovah  is  no  longer  worthy  to  be  trusted !  Jehovah  is 
no  longer  worthy  to  be  trusted !"  would  be  the  universal 
and  pathetic  exclamation.  "  We  thought  there  was  one 
Being,  and  only  one,  on  whom  we  might  depend  ;  but 
even  He  has  failed  ;  and  where  now  shall  we  look  for 
perfection  !"  But,  blessed  be  God,  these  dreadful  imag- 
inings can  never  be  realized,  for  Jehovah  will  never 
change." 

In  this  connection  we  shall  introduce  a  paragraph, 
communicated  by  a  ministering  brother,  who  occupied 
his  pulpit  on  the  day,  in  which  the  interview  mentioned 
took  place. 

"  As  an  instance  of  his  strong  fancy,  and  of  the  usee, 
to  which  he  applied  it,  I  will  mention,  that  on  the  last 
Sabbath,  in  which  with  great  difficulty  he  entered  the 
house  of  God,  he  said  to  me, — '  1  find  in  my  illness  that 
the  power  of  imagination  is  unweakened,  and  that  it  is  very 
easy  for  me  to  wander  into  the  regions  of  fancy. — On  the 
subject  of  the  wisdom  of  God  in  the  direction  of  mysteri- 
ous events  and  our  duty  of  submission  and  faith,  it  has 
occurred  to  me  recently,  that  our  conceptions  might  be 
assisted  by  imagining  God  to  take  a  human  Ibrm,  answer- 
ing— if  it  were  possible — to  his  infinite  nature. — What 
would  be  its  dimensions  1 — The  angel,  in  the  book  of 
Revelation,  is  represented  as  standing  with  one  foot  ou 
the  sea,  and  the  other  on  the  land,  and  lifting  up  his 
hand  to  heaven.  But  were  God  in  a  form,  such  as  I 
have  supposed,  one  foot  would  be  on  the  remotest  star  in 
one  direction  of  infinite  space,  and  the  other  foot  on  the 
remotest  star  in  the  opposite  direction  of  the  unbounded 
expanse  : — and  should  we  propose  to  climb  from  his  feet 
to  the  glories  of  his  face, — if  we  had  the  speed  of  light, 


EDWAUl)  P.VYSON. 


399 


and  had  been  travelling  from  the  creation  of  the  world, 
we  should  have  made  little  progress  in  our  journey.  And 
shall  we  then  presumptuously  judge  of  the  ways  of  this 
God,  and  imagine  that  we  could  manage  earthly  things 
more  wisely  than  he  1  Shall  we  have  any  d  mbts  as  to  his 
unfailing  wisdom,  and  perfect  rectitude,  and  infinite 
goodness?' — I  have  not  been  able  to  give  you  his  words, 
but  I  have  given  you  his  thought." 

Of  the  penetrating  and  all-absorbing  efTcct  of  his  last 
public  ministrations,  particularly  at  the  communion  ta- 
ble, some  feeble  conception  may  be  formed  from  an  ex- 
tract furnished  by  a  gentleman,  who,  for  twelve  years, 
had  been  only  an  occasional  attendant  on  his  ministry. 
The  first  paragraph  has  no  special  reference  to  this  pe- 
riod, but  may  properly  be  retained  for  the  value  of  its  tes- 
timony : 

"  At  the  sacramental  table,  especially,  did  his  mind 
appear  to  be  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  things  un- 
seen and  eternal.  To  a  candid  observer  it  was  manifest, 
at  such  seasons,  that  his  "  fellowship  was  with  the  Fa- 
ther, and  with  his  Son,  Jesus  Christ."  I  doubt  not,  that 
I  express  the  feelings  of  each  member  of  his  church,  when 
I  say,  that  often,  on  those  occasions,  he  seemed  to  soar  to 
the  third  heaven  ;  and  by  those  fervent  and  elevated  ef- 
fusions of  thought,  with  which  he  always  accompanied 
his  administration  of  the  ordinance,  he  literally  carried 
the  minds,  if  not  the  hearts  of  his  hearers,  with  him.  His 
influence,  in  this  respect,  is  associated  with  my  ea'iiesl 
recollections  of  Dr.  Payson.  -in  one  particular  instance, 
which  occurred  during  my  boyhood,  such  was  tlie  ab- 
sorbing influence  of  his  eloquence  on  my  own  mind  ;  ari- 
sing, doubtless,  more  from  the  attraction  of  his  iervent 
zeal,  and  that  creative  fancy,  for  which  he  was  so  re- 
markably distinguished,  than  from  any  special  regard 
on  my  own  part,  to  the  truths  he  uttered ;  that,  from  the 
commencement  of  the  public  services  of  the  afternoon,  to 
the  close  of  the  sacramental  season  which  succeeded 
them  ,  it  seemed  like  a  pleasing  reverie ;  and  had  all  the 
effect  of  an  ocular  survey  of  every  scene  connected  with 
the  humiliation  and  exaltation  oS  the  Saviour.    So  stronfT 


4(K> 


was  the  mental  impression  received,  that  I  can  still  dis^ 
tinctly  recollect,  not  only  his  text  on  that  occasion, — Rev. 
4  :  3,  latter  clause, — but  also  the  hymn  with  which  the  pub- 
lic services  were  introduced, — H.  25,  B.  1,  Watts. — He 
seemed  to  have  taken  his  flight  from  one  of  the  most  ele- 
vated heights  of  meditation,  and  to  soar  in  a  climax  of  de- 
votion, and  sublimity  of  thought ;  until  faith  changed  the 
heavenly  vision  into  a  reality,  and  spread  all  the  glories 
of  redemption,  around  the  consecrated  symbols  of  Christ's 
death. 

"  I  had  the  solemn  pleasure  too  of  being  present  at 
one  of  his /a5?  communion  seasons  with  the  church  on 
earth.  It  was  an  affecting, — a  soul-cheerins:  scene.  Its 
interest  was  greatly  enhanced  by  the  nearness  in  which 
he  seemed  to  stand  to  the  communion  of  the  church  tri- 
umphant. His  body  was  so  emaciated  with  long  and 
acute  suffering,  that  it  was  scarcely  able  to  sustain  the 
effort  once  more  imposed  upon  it ;  but  his  soul,  raised 
above  its  perishing  influence,  and  filled  with  a  joyful 
tranquillity,  seemed  entirely  regardless  of  the  weakness 
of  its  mortal  tenement.  His  right  hand  and  arm  were  so 
palsied  by  disease,  as  to  be  quite  useless ;  except,  that,  in 
the  act  of  breaking  the  bread,  when  he  could  not  well  dis- 
pense with  it,  he  placed  it  on  the  table  with  the  other 
hand  just  as  you  raise  any  lifeless  weight,  until  it  had 
performed  the  service  required  of  it.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
was  unwilling,  that  even  the  withered  hand  should  be 
found  unemployed  in  the  holy  work.  Truly,  thought  I, 
there  must  be  a  blessed  reality  in  that  religion,  which  can 
thus  make  the  soul  tranquil  and  happy,  in  the  constant, 
and  rapid  advances  of  decay  and  death  ! 

"  I  have  never  known  Dr.  Payson,  when  he  seemed 
more  abstracted  from  earth,  than  on  this  occasion.  It 
was,  as  he  supposed,  and  as  his  church  feared,  their  final 
interview  at  that  table.  In  all  the  glowing  fervor  of  de- 
votion, assisted  by  his  ever  fertile  imagination,  he  con- 
templated the  Saviour  as  visibly  present  in  the  midst  of 
them  ;  anH  with  his  usual  eloquence,  and  closeness  of  ap- 
peal, he  seemed  to  make  each  communicant  feel,  that 
what  he  had  imagined  was  a  reality  :  There  was  a  breath- 
less silence ;  and  the  solemnity  of  the  scene  could  hardly 
have  been  surpassed,  if,  as  he  expressed  it,  the  Lord  .Te- 


EDWARD  PATSON. 


401 


sus  Christ  were  seen,  sitting  before  them  ;  or  addressing 
to  each  individual  member,  the  momentous  inquiry, 
"  Lovest  thou  me  1"  I  can  say,  for  one,  that  the  terrors 
of  hypocricy  never  swelled  so  fearful,  and  the  realities  of 
the  judgment-seat  never  seemed  nearer,  than  at  that  sol« 
emn  hour.  And  I  trust  1  and  many  others  were  then  en- 
abled li-om  the  heart  to  pray,  with  the  I'salmist,  Search 
me,  O  God,  ^c. 

"  From  the  occasional  opportunities  I  have  enjoyed  of 
attending  on  Dr.  Payson's  administration  of  that  ordi- 
nance, 1  can  have  no  doubt  that  they  were  to  him,  fore- 
tastes of  that  Supper  of  the  Lamb,  on  whose  more  blessed 
celebration  he  so  triumphantly  entered.  And  it  is  an  in- 
teresting, a  momentous  question, — 

"  Shall  we  who  sat  with  him  below, 
Commune  with  him  above  ?" 

On  the  first  of  July,  he  attended  public  worship,  and 
after  a  sermon  from  his  assistant,  he  rose  and  addressed 
bis  people  thus  : — 

"  Ever  since  I  became  a  minister,  it  has  been  my 
earnest  wish  that  I  might  die  of  some  disease,  which 
would  allow  me  to  preach  a  farewell  sermon  to  my  peo- 
ple ;  but  as  it  is  not  probable  that  1  shall  ever  be  able 
to  do  this,  I  will  attempt  to  say  a  few  words  now  : — it 
may  be  the  last  time  that  I  shall  ever  address  you.  This 
is  not  merely  a  presentiment.  It  is  an  opinion  founded 
on  facts,  and  maintained  by  physicians  acquainted  with 
my  case,  that  I  shall  never  behold  another  spring. 

"  And  now,  standing  on  tlie  borders  of  the  eternal 
world,  I  look  back  on  my  past  ministry,  and  on  the 
manner  in  which  I  have  performed  its  duties  ;  and,  oh 
my  hearers,  if  you  have  not  performed  your  duties  better 
than  1  have  mine,  wo  I  wo!  be  to  you — unless  you  have 
an  Advocate  and  Intercessor  in  Heaven.  We  have  lived 
together  twenty  years,  and  have  spent  more  than  a  thou- 
sand Sabbaths  together,  and  I  have  given  you  at  least 
two  thousand  warnings.  I  am  now  going  to  render  an 
account  how  they  were  given,  and  you,  my  hearers,  will 

34* 


402 


MF.MOIR  Of 


soan  have  to  render  an  account  how  they  were  received. 
One  more  warning  I  will  give  you.  Once  more,  your 
shepherd,  who  will  be  yours  no  longer,  entreats  you  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.  Oh  let  me  have  the  happi- 
ness of  seeing  n)y  dear  people  attending  to  their  eternal 
interests,  that  I  may  not  have  reason  to  say,  I  have  la- 
bored in  vain,  I  have  spent  my  strength  for  nought." 

At  the  communion  table,  the  same  day,  he  said, — 
"  Christians  seem  to  expect  that  their  views  of  Christ, 
and  love  to  him  will  increase,  without  their  using  the 
proper  means.  They  should  select  some  scene  in  his  life 
and  meditate  long  upon  it,  and  strive  to  bring  the  circum- 
stances before  their  minds,  and  imagine  how  he  thought 
and  felt  at  the  time.  At  first  all  will  appear  confused 
and  indistinct ;  but  let  them  continue  to  look  steadily, 
and  the  mists  will  disappear,  and  their  hearts  will  begin 
to  burn  with  love  to  their  Saviour.  At  least  one  scene 
in  Christ's  life  should  be  thus  reviewed  every  day,  if  the 
Christian  hopes  to  find  his  love  to  his  Redeemer  increase." 

His  public  labors  were  now  nearly  over  ;  but  he  was 
daily  and  hourly  uttering  something  to  rouse  the  careless, 
or  for  the  instruction,  edification,  and  comfort  of  God's 
children. 

To  his  daughter,  who  expressed  a  wish  that  labor  as 
certainly  insured  success  in  spiritual,  as  in  temporal  af- 
fairs, he  said — "  "  It  does  ;  it  is  just  as  certain  that  pray- 
ers for  spiritual  blessings  will  be  answered,  whenever 
God  sees  best,  as  that  the  husbandman  who  sows  his  seed 
with  proper  precaution,  will  reap.  The  only  reason  that 
our  endeavois  to  obtain  spiritual  blessings  are  not  oftener 
attended  with  success,  is,  they  are  not  made  in  earnest. 
Never  omit  prayer,  or  any  devotional  exercise,  when  the 
stated  season  for  it  arrives,  because  you  feel  indisposed  to 
the  duty." 

July  12,  13. — On  both  these  days  Dr.  Payson  seemed 
a  little  revived.  He  had  tried  sailing  around  the  harbor, 
and  found  it  beneficial.  On  repeating  the  experiment, 
however,  he  discovered  that,  though  these  water-excur- 
sions were  of  service  to  his  lungs,  they  increased  the  par- 


£DWAUD  PAYSON. 


403 


alytic  affection, — if  such  it  was, — in  his  arm,  and  they 
were  relinquished. 

July  22.— Sabbath.  To  his  daughter  he  said,  "  There 
IS  nothing  in  which  young  converts  are  more  prone  to  err, 
than  in  laying  too  much  stress  upon  their  feelings.  If 
they  have  a  comfortable  half  hour  in  the  morning,  it  atones 
for  a  multitude  of  sins  in  the  course  of  the  day.  Christ 
says,  '  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments.'  It  would 
be  well  for  us  to  pay  more  attention  to  our  conduct,  and 
prove  the  depth  of  our  feeling  by  our  obedience."  He 
also  advised  her  to  observe  some  plan  with  regard  to  read- 
ing on  the  Sabbath.  In  the  morning  he  recommended 
reading  the  l!>criptures  exclusively,  and  afterwards,  works 
intended  to  convey  information  respecting  religious  sub- 
jects. 

July  29. — He  remarked  to  some  new  converts  who 
called,  that  the  most  important  direction  he  could  give 
them  was,  to  spend  much  time  in  retired  converse  with 
the  scriptures,  and  with  God.  "  If  you  wished  to  cher- 
ish the  remembrance  of  an  absent  friend,  you  would  read 
over  his  letters  daily,  meditate  on  his  acts  of  kindness  to 
you,  and  look  at  any  tokens  of  affection  which  he  might 
have  left  you." 

"  We  are  accustomed  to  suppose  that  God's  feelings 
towards  us  vary  according  to  our  own  ;  that  when  we  are 
in  a  lively  spiritual  frame  of  mind,  he  regards  us  with 
more  complacency  than  at  other  times.  This  is  not  the 
case.  The  feelings  with  which  God  regards  us  do  not 
fluctuate  like  ours." 

Aug.  5. — Sabbath.  This  day,  he  entered  the  meeting- 
house for  the  last  time  :  and  this  month  completes  twenty 
years,  since  he  entered  it,  the  first  time,  as  a  preacher. 
Then  a  trembling  youth,  now  the  spiritual  father  of  many 
hundreds.  Then  just  girded  for  the  warfare,  now  the 
veteran,  who  had  "  fought  the  good  fight,"  and  was  just 
going  to  resign  his  commission,  and  receive  a  crown  of 
unfading  glory. — He  made  a  great  effort  to  go  out,  as 
there  were  twenty-one  persons  to  be  admitted  to  the 
church.  He  was  supported  into  the  house  by  his  senior 
Deacons  j  and  although  he  merely  read  the  covenant  and 
remained  during  the  administration  of  the  sacrament,  he 


404 


MEMOIR  OF 


was  exceedingly  overcome.  Most  of  the  persons  present 
were  much  affected,  and  after  the  services,  many  crowd- 
ed around  him,  to  take  his  hand  for  the  last  time. 

Aug.  8. — He  had  a  violent  nervous  head-ache  ;  and 
was  much  interrupted  in  speaking  by  a  difficulty  of  breath- 
ing ;  but  said,  in  a  cheerful  voice,  to  some  ol  his  church 
who  were  in, — "  I  want  you  always  to  believe  that  God  is 
faithful.  However  dark  and  mysterious  any  of  his  dis- 
pensations may  appear,  still  confide  in  him.  He  can 
make  you  happy  when  every  thing  else  is  taken  from  you.' 
He  baptized  several  children  at  his  own  house,  but  the 
exertion  was  too  much  for  him. 

Aiig.  13. — He  received  from  a  society  of  young  men 
in  his  parish,  who  were  associated  for  religious  improve- 
ment, a  letter,  in  which  they  generously  offered  to  give 
his  son  a  liberal  education.  The  follow  mg  is  his  an- 
swer : — 

"  To  the  Society  for  Religious  Improvement. 
"  Beloved  Brethren, 

"  No  act  of  kindness,  which  it  was  in  the  power  of 
man  to  show,  could  have  been  more  soothing  to  my 
anxieties  as  a  dying  parent,  oi  more  grateful  to  a  dying 
minister,  than  your  unexpected  and  most  generous  offer 
to  furnish  the  means  of  a  liberal  education  to  my  oldest  son. 

"  Most  fervently  do  1  thank  you  for  making  this  of- 
fer, and  t!ie  Author  of  ail  good  for  inducing  you  to  do  it. 
To  see  him  thus  already  beginning  to  take  care  of  a 
family,  which  1  must  soon  leave,  is  a  great  encourage- 
ment to  my  faith,  that  he  will  continue  to  take  care  of 
them  alter  I  am  gone. 

"  If  it  is  any  satisfaction  lo  you  to  know  that  you  have 
assisted  to  smooth  your  Pastor's  dying  pillow,  and  shed 
light  on  his  last  hours,  you  may  feel  that  satisfaction  in 
a  very  high  degree.  With  most  earnest  prayers  that 
God  v\  ould  reward  you  abundantly  for  this  kind  offer,  I 
have  concluded  to  accept  it,  provided  that  my  son,  when 
he  shall  have  attained  the  age  of  sixteen,  shall  be  found 
to  possess  such  a  character,  as  will  justify  a  hope  that 
he  will  make  a  good  use  of  the  advantages  with  which 


EOWARJ)  PAYSON. 


405 


you  generously  furnish  him.  Arid  now,  brethren,  fare- 
well." 

During  this  month  his  "  wreck  of  being"  was  further 
shattered  by  a  spasmodic  cough,  which  at  times  threat- 
ened absolute  strangulation. 

Sept.  4. — He  said  to  his  wife  and  daughter — "  I  do 
not  think  you  are  sufficiently  thankful  for  my  consola- 
tions, or  realize  how  wonderful  it  is  that  I  am  thus  sup- 
ported. Owing  to  my  natural  activity,  and  unwilling- 
ness to  be  dependant  on  others  for  the  supply  of  my 
wants,  these  trials  are  exactly  those  which  are  most  cal- 
culated to  make  me  miserable.  But  God  can  sweeten 
the  bitterest  cup.' 

He  afterwards  said,  with  emotions  which  would  hard- 
ly allow  him  to  speak, — "  Oh,  my  daughter,  how  you  will 
regret  when  you  come  to  see  how  good  God  is,  that  you 
did  not  serve  him  better.    O  !  he  is  so  good,  so  good.  ' 

Sept.  9. — During  the  preceding  week  he  had  rode 
out  several  times,  being  carried  down  stairs  and  lifted 
into  the  chaise.  For  a  few  days  he  thought  himself  bet- 
ter, but  these  favorable  appearances  were  of  short  du- 
ration. He  remarked,  that,  sometimes  in  order  to  try 
his  people's  faith,  God  gives  them  a  prospect  that  an  af- 
fliction is  about  to  be  removed,  and  then  permits  it  to  re- 
turn again.  He  compared  his  present  case  to  that  of  a 
man,  who,  after  having  been  along  time  confined  in  pris- 
on, finds  his  door  open  one  morning  ;  but  on  attempting 
to  leave  it  the  door  is  suddenly  closed  with  such  violence, 
as  to  throw  him  prostrate  on  the  floor. 

He  was  asked  on  this  day  by  some  of  his  friends,  if  he 
could  see  any  particular  reason  for  this  dispensation. — 
"  No,"  replied  he,  "  but  I  am  as  well  satisfied  as  if  I 
could  see  ten  thousand  ;  God's  will  is  the  very  perfection 
of  all  reason." 

To  his  daughter,  who  was  obliged  to  defer  a  contem- 
plated undertaking  by  an  approaching  storm,  he  turned, 


406 


MEMOIR  (tF 


and  said  with  a  smile — "  I  suppose  you  feel  as  ii  the  e- 
quinox  ought  to  be  deferred,  on  account  of  your  school." 

In  answer  to  the  question,  by  a  lady  from  B.,  are  you 
better  than  you  were  ?  he  replied,  "  Not  in  body,  but  in 
mind.  If  my  happiness  continues  to  increase,  I  cannot 
support  it  much  longer."  On  being  asked,  are  your  views 
of  heaven  clearer  and  brighter  than  ever  before  '>  he  said, 
—  "Why,  for  a  few  moments,  I  may  have  had  as  bright, 
but  formerly  my  joys  were  tumultuous ;  now  all  is  calm 
and  peaceful."  He  was  asked,  "In  your  anticipations  of 
heaven  do  you  think  of  meeting  departed  friends  V  After 
a  moment's  reflection  he  said,  with  a  most  expressive 
countenance,  "  If  I  meet  Christ,  'tis  no  matter  whether 
I  see  others  or  not — though  ]  shall  want  some  to  help  me 
praise  him."  He  doubtless  had  an  opinion  on  this  sub- 
ject ;  but  he  remembered  Christ's  answer  to  the  question, 
"  Are  there  few  that  be  saved  ?" 

"  God  deals  strangely  with  his  creatures  to  promote 
their  happiness.  Who  would  have  thought  that  I  must 
be  reduced  to  this  state,  helpless  and  crippled,  to  experi- 
ence the  highest  enjoyment!" 

"  You  ought  to  feel  happy,  all  ought  to  feel  happy,  who 
come  here,  for  they  are  within  a  few  steps  of  heaven." 
During  ti  e  course  of  this  conversation,  he  repeated  this 
verse,  "  Thy  sun  shall  no  more  go  down,  neither  shall  thy 
moon  withdraw  itself;  for  the  Lord  shall  be  thine  ever- 
lasting light,  and  the  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  be  end- 
ed." Turning  to  a  young  lady  present,  he  said,  "  Do 
you  not  think  this  is  worth  travelling  over  many  high 
hills  and  difficult  places  to  obtain?"  "  Give  my  love  to 
my  friends  in  Boston,  tell  them  all  I  ever  said  in  praise  of 
God  or  religion,  falls  infinitely  below  the  truth." 

"  Dr.  Clarke,  in  his  travels,  speaking  of  the  companies, 
that  were  travelling  from  the  East  to  Jerusalem,  repre- 
sents the  procession  as  being  very  long;  and  after  climb- 
ing over  the  extended  and  heavy  ranges  of  hills  that 
bounded  the  way,  some  of  the  foremost  at  length  reached 
the  top  of  the  last  hill,  and,  stretching  up  their  hands  ip 


KI)\VAUI>  TAVSON. 


407 


gestures  of  joy,  cried  out,  "  The  Holy  City !  the  Holy 
City  !" — and  fell  down  and  worshipped  ;  while  those,  who 
were  behind,  pressed  forward  to  see. — So  the  dying  Chris- 
tian, when  he  gets  on  the  last  summit  of  life,  and  stretch- 
es his  vision  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  heavenly  city,  may 
cry  out  of  its  glories,  and  incite  those  who  are  behind  to 
press  forward  to  the  sight." 

To  a  clergyman — "  Oh  if  ministers  only  saw  the  in- 
conceivable glory  that  is  before  them,  and  the  precious- 
ness  of  Christ,  they  would  not  be  able  to  refrain  from 
going  about,  leaping  and  clapping  their  hands  for  joy,  and 
exclaiming,  I'm  a  minister  of  Christ!  I'm  a  minister  of 
Christ!" 

"  When  I  read  Bunyan's  description  of  the  land  of 
Beulah,  where  the  sun  shines  and  the  birds  sing  day  and 
night,  I  used  to  doubt  whether  there  were  such  a  place  ; 
but  now  my  own  experience  has  convinced  me  of  it,  and 
it  infinitely  transcends  all  my  previous  conceptions." 

"  I  think  the  happiness  I  enjoy  is  similar  to  that  en- 
joyed by  glorified  spirits  before  the  resurrection." 

Sejjt.  IG. — Sabbath.  He  awaked  exclaiming,  "  I  am 
going  to  Mount  Zion,  to  the  city  of  the  living  God,  to 
the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  to  an  innumerable  company  of 
angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first- 
born, and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all." 

During  the  night  of  September  17th  he  was  seized  with 
spasms,  which,  it  seemed,  must  separate  soul  and  body. 
It  was  not  thought  by  his  physician,  that  he  could  survive 
a  second  attack  ;  but  his  hold  on  life  remained,  though 
the  spasms  continued  to  return  every  succeeding  night 
with  more  or  less  violence.  Every  new  attack  seemed, 
however,  to  strengthen  the  energies  of  his  mind.*  No 
better  evidence  of  this  can  be  desired,  than  is  exhibited  in 
a  letter,  which  he  dictated  to  his  sister. 

*'  The  soul's  dark  cottage,  shattered  and  decayed. 

Let  in  new  light  through  chinks  which  time  had  made.' 


408 


MEMX)IR  OF 


Sept.  19. 

"  Dear  Sister, 

"  Were  I  to  adopt  the  figurative  language  of  Bunyan  I 
might  date  this  letter  from  the  land  of  Beulah,  of  which 
I  have  been  for  some  weeks  a  happy  inhabitant.  The 
celestial  city  is  full  in  my  view.  Its  glories  beam  upon 
me,  its  breezes  fan  me,  its  odors  are  wafted  to  me,  its 
sounds  strike  upon  my  ears,  and  its  spirit  is  breathed  in- 
to my  heart.  Nothing  separates  me  from  it  but  the  river 
of  death,  which  now  appears  but  as  an  insignificant  rill, 
that  may  be  crossed  at  a  single  step,  whenever  Go  l  shall 
give  permission.  The  Sun  of  Righteousness  has  been 
gradually  drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  appearing  larger 
and  brighter  as  he  approached,  and  now  he  fills  the  whole 
hemisphere  ;  pouring  forth  a  flood  of  glory,  in  which  I 
seem  to  float  like  an  insect  in  the  beams  of  the  sun  ;  ex- 
ulting, yet  almost  tiembling,  while  I  gaze  on  this  excess- 
ive brightness,  and  wondering,  with  unutterable  wonder, 
why  God  should  deign  thus  to  shine  upon  a  sinful  worm. 
A  single  heart,  and  a  single  tongue  seem  altogether  in- 
adequate to  my  wants  :  I  want  a  whole  heart  for  every 
separate  emotion,  and  a  whole  tongue  to  express  that 
emotion. 

But  why  do  I  speak  thus  of  myself  and  my  feelingg ; 
why  not  speak  only  of  our  God  and  Redeemer  ?  It  is 
because  I  know  not  what  to  say.  When  I  would  speak 
of  them  my  words  are  all  swallowed  up.  I  can  only  tell 
you  what  eflfects  their  presence  produces,  and  even  of  these 
I  can  tell  you  but  very  little.  O,  my  sister,  my  sister  ! 
could  you  but  know  what  awaits  the  Christian  ;  could  you 
know  only  so  much  as  I  know,  you  could  not  refrain  from 
rejoicing,  and  even  leaping  for  joy.  Labors,  trials,  troub- 
les, would  be  nothing :  you  would  rejoice  in  afflictions, 
and  glory  in  tribulations ;  and,  like  Paul  and  Silas,  sing 
God's  praises  in  the  darkest  night,  and  in  the  deepest 
dungeon.  You  have  known  a  little  of  my  trials  and  con- 
flicts, and  know  that  they  have  been  neither  few  nor  small  ; 
and  I  hope  this  glorious  termination  of  them,  will  serve 
to  strengthen  your  faith,  and  elevate  your  hope. 


EDWARD  PAVSON. 


409 


"  And  now,  my  dear,  dear  sister,  farewell.  Hold  on 
your  Christian  course  but  a  few  days  longer,  and  you  will 
meet  in  heaven. 

Your  happy  and  affectionate  brotlier, 

EDWARD  PAYSON." 

The  next  day  he  sent  for  the  editor  of  a  religious  jour- 
nal, and  expressed  his  wishes  in  regard  to  the  disposition 
which  should  be  made  of  a  certain  class  of  elfusions, 
which  his  exit  would  probably  call  forth — adding,  "  I 
make  this  request,  about  as  much  for  your  sake,  as  my 
own."  He  had  then  survived  three  or  four  of  these  dread- 
ful nocturnal  attacks,  but  observed  that  he  could  not  cal- 
culate upon  surviving  another.  In  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion, why  he  was  thus  affected  in  the  night,  rather  than 
the  day, — he  proceeded,  with  as  much  readiness,  as  if  it 
had  been  the  study  of  his  life,  to  give  a  philosophical  ac- 
count of  the  change  which  takes  place  in  the  body,  in  its 
transit  from  a  state  of  wakefulness  to  that  of  sleep  — 
"  Then,"  said  he, — that  is,  as  soon  as  the  will  resigns  its 
power  over  the  muscles  and  organs  of  the  body — "  then 
my  diseases  commence  their  gambols  !" 

Sept.  21. — "  O,  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  lose  one's 
will !  Since  I  have  lost  my  will,  I  have  found  happiness. 
There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  disappointment  to  me,  for  I 
have  no  desires  but  that  God's  will  may  be  accomplished." 

"  I  have  been  all  my  life  like  a  child  whose  father  wish- 
es to  fix  his  undivided  attention.  At  first  the  child  runs 
about  the  room, — but  his  father  ties  up  his  feet ;  he  then 
plays  with  his  hands  until  they  likewise  are  tied.  Thus 
he  continues  to  do,  till  he  is  completely  tied  up  ;  then, 
when  he  can  do  nothing  else,  he  will  attend  to  his  father, 
•lust  so  God  has  been  dealing  with  me,  to  induce  me  to 
place  my  happiness  in  him  alone.  But  I  blindly  contin- 
ued to  look  for  it  here,  and  God  has  kept  cutting  off  one 
source  of  enjoyment  after  another,  till  I  find  that  I  can 
do  without  them  all,  and  yet  enjoy  more  happiness  than 
ever  in  my  life  before." 

"  It  sounds  so  flat  when  people  tell  me  that  it  is  just 
35 


410 


MESrOIU  OF 


for  God  to  afflict  me,  as  if  justice  did  not  require  infinite- 
ly more." 

He  was  asked,  "  Do  you  feel  reconciled  ?" — "  O  !  that 
is  too  cold.  I  rejoice,  I  triumph  !  and  this  happiness 
will  endure  as  long  as  God  himself,  for  it  consists  in  ad- 
miring and  adoring  him." 

"  I  can  find  no  words  to  express  my  happiness.  I 
seem  to  be  swimming  in  a  river  of  pleasure  which  is  car- 
rying me  on  to  the  great  fountain." 

Sabbath  morning,  Sept.  23d,  he  said, — "  Last  night  I 
had  a  full  clear  view  of  death  as  the  king  of  terrors ; 
how  he  comes  and  crowds  the  poor  sinner  to  the  very 
verge  of  the  precipice  of  destruction,  and  then  pushes 
him  down  headlong.  But  I  felt  that  I  had  nothing  to  do 
with  this  ;  and  I  loved  to  sit  like  an  infant  at  the  feet  of 
Christ  who  saved  me.  from  this  fate.  I  felt  that  death  was 
disarmed  of  all  its  terrors ;  all  he  could  do  would  be  to 
touch  me,  and  let  my  soul  loose  to  go  to  my  Saviour." 

"  Christians  are  like  passengers  setting  out  together  in 
a  ship  for  some  distant  country.  Very  frequently  one 
drops  overboard,  but  his  companions  know  that  he  has 
only  gone  a  shorter  way  to  the  same  port ;  and  that,  when 
they  arrive  there,  they  shall  find  him,  so  that  all  they  lose 
is  his  company  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage." 

"  I  long  to  measure  out  a  full  cup  of  happiness  to  eve- 
ry body,  but  Christ  wisely  keeps  that  prerogative  in  his 
own  hands." 

"  It  seems  as  if  all  the  bottles  of  heaven  were  opened  ; 
and  all  its  fulness  and  happiness,  and,  I  trust,  no  small 
portion  of  its  benevolence,  is  come  down  into  my  heart." 

"  I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that  the  happiness  of 
heaven,  is  a  benevolent  happiness.  In  proportion  as  my 
joy  has  increased,  I  have  been  filled  with  intense  love  to 
all  creatures,  and  a  strong  desire  that  they  might  partake 

my  happiness." 

Sept.  26. — In  answer  to  some  complaints  of  one  of  the 
family  he  said — "  Perhaps  there  is  nothing  more  trying 
to  the  faith  and  patience  of  Christians,  or  which  appears 


EOWARF)  TAYSON. 


411 


to  tliem  more  mysterious,  than  the  small  supplies  of  grace 
which  they  receive,  and  the  delays  which  they  meet  with 
in  having  their  prayers  answered  ;  so  that  they  are  some- 
times ready  to  say.  It  is  in  vain  to  wait  upon  the  Lord 
any  longer.  He  then  mentioned  the  text,  "  Wherefore 
gird  up  the  loins  of  your  minds,  be  sober,  and  hope  to 
the  end  for  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought  unto  you  at 
the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ."  A  large  portion  of  the 
grace  which  Christians  are  to  receive  will  be  given  to 
them  at  the  second  coming  of  Christ,  or  immediately  af- 
ter death  ;  and  this  will  always  be  in  proportion  to  their 
prayers  and  exertions  here.  Christians  need  not  there- 
fore be  discouraged  at  the  slow  prngress  they  make,  and 
the  little  success  which  attends  their  efforts,  for  they  may 
be  assured  that  every  exertion  is  noticed  and  will  be  re- 
warded by  their  Heavenly  Father." 

To  a  young  convert  he  said, — "  You  will  have  to  go 
through  many  conflicts  and  trials  ;  you  must  be  put  in 
the  furnace  and  tempted  and  tried,  in  order  to  show  you 
what  is  in  your  heart.  Sometimes  it  will  seem  as  if  Sa- 
tan had  you  in  his  power,  and  that  the  more  you  struggle 
and  pray  against  sin,  the  more  it  prevails  against  you. 
But  when  you  are  thus  tried  and  desponding,  remember 
me  ;  I  have  gone  through  all  this,  and  now  you  see  the 
end." 

To  another — *'  You  recollect  the  story  of  David  rescu- 
ing the  lamb  from  the  lion  and  the  bear.  David  loved 
the  lamb,  before  he  rescued  it  from  danger ;  but  he  lov- 
ed it  more  afterwards.  So  Christ  loves  all  his  creatures  ; 
but  he  loves  them  more,  after  he  has  taken  them  into  his 
fold,  and  owned  them  as  the  purchase  of  his  precious 
blood." 

"  Christians  might  avoid  much  trouble  and  inconve- 
nience, if  they  would  only  believe  what  they  profess, — 
that  God  is  able  to  make  them  happy  without  any  thing 
else.  They  imagine  that  if  such  a  dear  friend  were  to 
die,  or  such  and  such  blessings  to  be  removed,  they  should 
be  miserable  ;  whereas  God  can  make  them  a  thousand 
times  happier  without  them.  T»  mention  my  own  case, 
— God  has  been  depriving  me  of  one  blessing  after  anoth- 
er, but  as  every  one  was  removed,  he  has  come  in  and 


412 


MEMOIR  OF 


filled  up  its  place ;  and  now  when  I  am  a  cripple,  aud  not 
able  to  move  I  am  happier  than  ever  I  was  in  ray  life  be- 
fore, or  ever  expected  to  be,  and  if  I  had  believed  this 
twenty  years  ago,  I  might  have  been  spared  much  anxiety." 

"  If  God  had  told  me  some  time  ago,  that  he  was  about 
to  make  me  as  liappy  as  I  could  be  in  this  world,  and 
then  had  told  me  that  he  should  begin  by  crippling  me  in 
all  my  limbs,  and  removing  me  from  all  my  usual  sources 
of  enjoyment;  I  should  have  thought  it  a,  very  strange 
mode  of  accomplishing  his  purpose.  And  yet,  how  is  his 
wisdom  manifest  even  in  this  !  for  if  you  should  see  a 
man  shut  up  in  a  close  room,  idolizing  a  set  of  lamps  and 
rejoicing  in  their  light;  and  you  wished  to  make  him  tru- 
ly happy,  you  would  begin  by  blowing  out  all  his  lamps  ; 
and  then  throw  open  the  shutters,  to  let  in  the  light  of 
heaven." 

"  Suppose  a  son  is  walking  with  his  father,  in  whose 
wisdom,  he  places  the  most  entire  confidence.  He  fol- 
lows wherever  his  father  leads,  though  it  may  be  through 
thorns  and  briers,  cheerfully  and  contentedly. — Another 
.son,  we  will  suppose,  distrusts  his  father's  wisdom  and 
love,  and  when  the  path  is  rough  or  uneven,  begins  to 
murmur  and  repine,  wishing  that  he  might  be  allowed  to 
choose  his  own  patli ;  and  though  he  is  obliged  to  follow, 
it  is  with  great  reluctance  and  discontent.  Now  the  rea- 
son that  Christians  in  general  do  not  enjoy  more  of  God's 
presence,  is,  that  they  are  not  willing  to  walk  in  his  path, 
when  it  crosses  their  own  inclinations.  But  we  shall 
never  be  happy,  until  we  acquiesce  with  perfect  cheerful- 
ness in  all  his  decisions,  and  follow  wherever  he  leads 
without  a  murmur." 

After  it  had  become  certain  that  he  would  never  again 
leave  his  chamber,  till  he  was  carried  out,  yet  being  un- 
ceasingly de.sirous  to  benefit  his  people,  he  sent  a  request, 
which  was  announced  from  the  pulpit,  that  they  would 
repair  to  his  chamber.  Once,  it  is  believed,  they  came 
indiscriminately  ;  at  other  times  in  specified  classes,  in- 
cluding as  many  as  the  chamber  could  contain.  When 
he  had  addres.sed  to  them  collectively  his  last  most  sol- 
emn and  afiectionate  counsel,  till  compelled  to  desist  bf 


EnWARD  PAYSON. 


413 


the  failure  of  his  strength,  he  took  them  individually  by 
the  hand,  and  with  a  heavenly  smile,  bade  them  farewell  ! 

To  members  of  his  congregation,  he  spoke  nearly  as 
follows  : 

"  It  has  often  been  remarked  that  people  who  have 
been  into  the  other  world,  cannot  come  back  to  tell  us 
what  they  have  seen  ;  but  I  am  so  near  the  eternal  world 
that  I  can  see  almost  as  clearly  as  if  I  were  there ;  and  I 
see  enough  to  satisfy  myself,  at  least,  of  the  truth  of  the 
doctrines  which  I  have  preached.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
should  feel  at  all  surer,  liad  I  been  really  there. 

"  It  is  always  interesting  to  see  others  in  a  situation  in 
which  we  know  that  we  must  shortly  be  placed  ourselves, 
and  we  all  know  that  we  must  die.  And  to  see  a  poor 
creature,  when  after  an  alternation  of  hopes  and  fears,  he 
finds  that  his  disease  is  mortal,  and  deatli  comes,  to  tear 
him  away  from  every  thing  he  loves,  and  crowds,  and 
crowds  him  to  the  very  verge  of  the  precipice  of  destruc- 
tion, and  then  thrusts  him  down  headlong  ! — There  he  is, 
cast  into  an  unknown  world  no  friend,  no  Saviour  to  re- 
ceive him. 

"  O  how  different  is  this  from  the  state  of  a  man  who 
is  prepared  to  die.  He  is  not  obliged  to  be  crowded  re- 
luctantly along  ;  but  the  other  world  comes  like  a  great 
magnet  to  draw  him  away  from  this  ;  and  he  knows  that 
he  is  going  to  enjoy, — and  not  only  knows  but  begins  to 
taste  it, — perfect  happiness  ;  forever  and  ever  ;  tbrever 
and  ever  i         *  *  *  *  * 

"  And  now  God  is  in  this  room  ;  I  see  him  ;  and  O 
how  unspeakably  lovely  and  glorious  does  he  appear, — 
worthy  of  ten  thousand,  thousand  hearts,  if  we  had  them. 
He  is  here  and  hears  me  pleading  with  the  creatures  that 
he  has  made,  whom  he  preserves  and  loads  with  blessings, 
to  love  him. — And  O,  how  terrible  does  it  appear  to  me, 
to  sin  against  this  God  ;  to  set  up  our  wills  in  opposition 
to  his,  and  when  we  awake  in  the  morning,  instead  of 
thinking,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  please  my  God  to-day  ?" 
to  inquire,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  please  myself  to-day  ?" 
After  a  short  pause  he  continued,  "  It  makes  my  blood 
ri;n  cold  to  think  liow  inexpressibly  miserable  I  should 
now  be  without  religion.  To  lie  here  and  see  myself 
35* 


414 


MEMOIR  OF 


tottering  on  the  verge  of  destruction  ! — O  I  should  be  dis- 
tracted !  And  wlien  I  see  my  fellow-creatures  liable  every 
moment  to  be  reduced  to  this  situation,  I  am  in  an  ago- 
ny for  them,  that  they  may  escape  their  danger  before  it 
be  too  late.  When  people  repent  they  begin  to  see  God's 
infinite  perfections,  how  amiable  and  glorious  he  is,  and 
the  heart  relents  and  mourns  that  it  has  treated  him  so 
ungratefully. 

"  Suppose  we  should  hear  the  sound  of  a  man's  voice 
pleading  earnestly  with  some  one,  but  could  not  distin- 
guish the  words  ;  and  we  should  inquire,  '  What  is  that 
man  pleading  for  so  earnestly  V  '  O,  he  is  only  pleading 
with  a  fellow  creature  to  love  his  God,  his  Saviour,  his 
Preserver  and  Benefactor.  He  is  only  pleading  with  him 
not  to  throw  away  his  immortal  soul,  not  to  pull  down  ev- 
erlasting wretchedness  upon  his  own  head.  He  is  only 
persuading  him  to  avoid  eternal  misery,  and  to  accept 
eternal  happiness.'  '  Is  it  possible,'  we  should  exclaim, 
'  that  any  persuasion  can  be  necessary  for  this?'  and  yet 
it  is  necessary.  O  my  friends  do,  do  love  this  glorious 
Being — do  seek  for  the  salvation  of  your  immortal  souls. 
Hear  the  voice  of  your  dying  minister  while  he  entreats 
you  to  care  for  your  souls." 

He  afterwards  said, — "  I  am  always  sorry  when  I  say 
any  thing  to  any  one  who  comes  in  :  it  seems  so  inade- 
quate to  what  I  wish  to  express.  The  words  sink  right 
down  under  the  weight  of  the  meaning  I  wish  to  convey.'" 

On  another  occasion, — "  I  find  no  satisfaction  in  look- 
ing at  any  thing  I  have  done  ;  I  want  to  leave  all  this  be- 
hind,— it  is  nothing, — and  fly  to  Christ  to  be  clothed  in 
his  righteousness." 

Again, — "  I  have  done  nothing  myself  I  have  not 
fought,  but  Christ  has  fought  for  me  ;  I  have  not  run,  but 
Christ  has  carried  me  ;  I  have  not  worked,  but  Christ  has 
wrought  in  me  ; — Christ  has  done  all." 

The  perfections  of  God  were  to  him  a  well-spring  of 
joy,  and  the  promises  were  "  breasts  of  consolation," 
whence  his  soul  drew  its  comfort  and  its  aliment. — "  O  !" 
exclaimed  he,  "  the  loving  kindness  of  God — hi3  loving 


EDWAUn  PAYSON. 


415 


kindness !  This  afternoon  while  I  was  meditating  on  it, 
the  Lord  seemed  to  pass  by  and  proclaim  huuseit',  'The 
Lord,  the  Lord  God  merciful  and  gracious  !'  O  how  gra- 
cious !  Try  to  conceive  of  tl  at,  his  loving-ktndness,  as 
if  it  were  not  enough  to  say  kindness,  but — loving  kind- 
ness. What  must  be  the  loving  kindness  of  God,  who  is, 
himself  infinite  love." 

"  It  seemed  this  afternoon  as  if  Christ  said  to  me,  '  you 
have  often  wondered  and  been  impatient  at  the  way  by 
which  I  have  led  you  ;  but  what  do  you  think  of  it  now  '?' 
And  I  was  cut  to  the  heart,  when  I  looked  back  and  saw 
the  wisdom  and  goodness  by  which  I  had  been  guided, 
that  I  could  ever  for  a  moment  distrust  his  love." 

A  clergyman  from  another  State,  who  visited  Dr.  Pay- 
son  about  this  stage  of  liis  illness,  gave  the  following  ac- 
count of  the  interview  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  : 

"  His  eye  beams  with  the  same  animation  as  ever.  The 
muscles  of  his  face  are  unatiected  by  that  which  has  spread 
all  but  death  throughout  the  other  parts  of  his  system. — 
When  I  entered  the  chamber,  addressing  me  with  a  smile 
he  said,  "  I  have  no  hand  to  welcome  you  with,  but  1  am 
glad  to  see  you."  I  observed  to  him  that  I  was  reluctant 
to  Iky  any  tax  upon  him  in  his  present  weak  state,  but  had 
felt  desirous  to  see  him  a  moment.  He  replied  that  he  did 
not  feel  parsimonious  of  the  poor  remains  of  strength  he 
had  left :  he  had  got  so  near  through  that  it  was  not  worth 
while  to  be  solicitous  about  saving  for  future  time."  He 
conversed  in  a  low,  audible  voice,  and  in  the  same  strain 
of  pointed,  pithy  remark  as  when  in  health.  He  observ- 
ed that  the  point  in  which  he  believed  ministers  generally 
failed  most,  and  in  which  he  had  certainly  failed  most,  was 
in  doing  duty  professionally,  and  not  from  the  heart.  I 
could  not  but  say  to  him,  that,  probably,  his  practice  had 
been  marked  with  lessof  this  error,  than  that  of  most  oth- 
ers. He  seemed  pained  with  the  thought  that  any  should 
be  more  deficient  than  he  had  been  :  "  O  1  hope  it  is  not 
so  !  I  hope  it  is  not  so  !"  Referring  to  the  peace  which 
the  gospel  afforded  him  under  his  trials,  he  said,  "  i  have 
never  half  valued  as  I  ought,  the  doctrines  which  I  have 


41G 


MKMOIK  UF 


preached.  The  system  is  great  and  glorious,  and  is  worthy 
of  our  utmost  efforts  to  promote  it.  The  interests  depend- 
ing will  justify  us  in  our  strongest  measures  In  every  res- 
pect we  may  embark  our  all  upon  it;  it  will  sustain  us." 
*  *  *  * 

"  Speaking  of  the  temper  requisite  to  the  right  discharge 
of  ministerial  duty,  he  said,  1  never  was  fit  to  say  a  word 
to  a  sinner,  except  when  I  had  a  broken  heart  myself ; 
when  I  was  subdued  and  melted  into  penitence,  and  i'elt  as 
though  I  had  just  received  pardon  to  my  own  soul,  and 
when  my  heart  was  full  of  tenderness  and  pity — no  anger, 
no  anger."  He  expressed  himself  with  great  earnestness 
respecting  the  grace  of  God  as  exercised  in  saving  lost 
men,  and  seemed  particularly  affected  that  it  should  be  be- 
stowed on  one  so  ill  deserving  as  himself.  "  O  how  sove- 
reign !  O  how  sovereign  !  Grace  is  the  only  thing  that  can 
make  us  like  God.  1  might  be  dragged  through  heaven, 
earth  and  hell,  and  I  should  be  still  the  same  sinful  pollu- 
ted wretch,  unless  God  himself  should  renew  and  cleanse 
me." — He  inquired  whether  1  could  preach  to  his  people 
on  the  morrow.  Being  told  that  I  was  not  well,  he  repli- 
ed; "Then  do  not  preach:  I  have  too  often  preached 
when  I  wasnot  able." 

"  On  taking  leave,  I  expressed  a  hope  that  he  might 
continue  to  enjoy  the  presence  of  God,  and  receive  even 
increasing  peace  if  he  could  bear  it.  "  O  !"  said  he,  "  when 
we  meet  in  heaven,  we  shall  see  how  little  we  know  about 
it."  His  whole  manner  and  appearance  is  that  of  a  man 
who  has  drunk  into  tiie  spirit  of  heaven  far  more  deeply 
than  those  around  him." 

October  7. — In  conversation  with  his  eldest  daughter, 
on  being  asked,  whether  self-examination  wcs  not  a  very 
difficult  duty  for  young  Christians  to  perform,  he  replied 
— Yes  ; — and  for  old  onestO'i,  because  it  is  displeasing  to 
the  pride  of  the  heart,  because  wandering  thoughts  are 
then  most  apt  to  intrude,  and  because  of  the  deceitfulness 
of  the  heart.  When  a  Christian  first  begins  to  look  into 
his  heart,  he  sees  nothing  but  confusion  ;  a  heap  of  sins, 
and  a  very  little  good,  mixed  up  together ;  and  he  knows 
not  how  to  separate  them,  or  how  to  beg.n  self-examina- 
tion.   But  let  him  persevere  in  his  efforts,  and  soon  order 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


417 


will  arise  out  of  confusion." — She  mentioned  to  him  a  pas- 
sage in  the  life  of  Mr.  Alleine,  which  led  him  to  say — "  We 
never  confess  any  faults  that  we  consider  really  disgrace- 
ful. We  complain  of  our  hardness  of  heart,  stupidity,  &c. 
but  we  never  confess  envy  or  covetousness,  or  revenge,  or 
any  thing,  that  we  suppoio  v/iil  lower  us  in  the  opinion  of 
ethers ;  and  this  proves  that  we  do  not  feel  ashamed  of 
coldness  or  stupidity.  In  short,  when  young  Christians 
make  confessions,  unless  there  is  an  obvious  call  for 
them,  it  usually  proceeds  from  one  of  these  three  mo- 
tives ; — either  they  wish  to  be  thought  very  humble,  and 
to  possess  great  knowledge  of  their  own  hearts  ;  or  they 
think  it  is  a  fault  which  the  other  has  perceived,  and  are 
willing  to  have  the  credit  of  having  discovered  and  striv- 
en  against  it ;  or  they  confess  some  fault,  from  which  they 
are  remarkably  free,  in  order  to  elicit  a  compliment. 

"  There  are  no  two  feelings  apparently  more  unlike 
than  mortified  pride  and  gratified  pride  ;  yet  they  are  in 
reality  very  similar,  and  we  are  indulging  one  of  these 
feelings  almost  constantly.  When  God  permits  every 
thing  to  go  on  very  smoothly,  and  grants  us  some  com- 
forts, our  pride  is  gratified  ;  we  are  pleased  with  our- 
selves, with  God, — and  call  the  feeling  gratitude, — and 
with  those  around  us  ;  we  can  be  very  pleasant  and  obli- 
ging. But  let  this  state  of  things  be  reversed ;  let  our 
corruptions  be  suffered  to  break  loose,  and  trials  and  con- 
flicts to  assail  us, — then  our  pride  is  mortified  ;  we  begin 
to  fret  and  repine,  and  say  that  all  our  endeavors,  are 
useless.  You  can  not  yet  conceive  how  very  small  a  por- 
tion of  grace  we  have,  so  that  if  we  doubt  whether  mat- 
ter is  infinitely  divisible,  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  grace 
is  so." 

"  With  regard  to  self-examination,  we  should  always 
have,  as  it  were,  our  eye  turned  inward,  to  watch  our 
motives  and  feelings.  We  should  also,  at  night,  review 
the  conduct  of  the  day  ;  and  it  would  aid  you  to  do  this, 
if  you  made  an  abstract  of  the  duties  you  owe  to  God  and 
to  your  fellow-creatures  in  the  several  relations  of  life, 
and  also  of  your  besetting  sins.  But  the  most  important 
direction  I  can  give  you  is,  to  look  to  Christ;  for  while 
we  are  contemplating  his  perfections,  we  insensibly  im- 
bibe his  spirit." 


418 


MEMOIR  OF 


Notwithstanding  his  deep  seriousness,  there  was  oo 
casionally  a  pleasantry  in  his  manner  of  expressing  him- 
self, which  would  excite  an  involuntary  smile. — "  What 
contrary  and  unreasonable  creatures  we  are  !  The  more 
God  does  for  us,  the  less  we  thank  him.  Here  I  am, 
stripped  of  more  than  half  my  blessings,  as  we  ordinarily 
estimate  them,  and  yet  I  never  felt  half  so  grateful  to 
God  before.  We  are  just  like  the  harlequin,  when  hired 
to  mourn,  of  whom  his  employer  said,  'The  better  I 
pay  him,  the  more  he  won't  grieve  !' 

A  gray-headed  member  of  his  church,  who  is  usually 
very  abrupt  in  his  address,  but  generally  very  scriptural, 
entered  his  chamber  one  day  with  the  salutation — 
"  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?  " — "  I  should  think  it 
was  about  noon-day" — was  the  answer. 

On  Sabbath  day,  Oct.  7*  it  was  the  privileged  lot  of 
the  young  men  of  the  Society  to  assemble,  at  his  request, 
in  his  chamber,  when  he  addressed  them  in  substance,  as 
follows  : — 

"  My  young  friends,  you  will  all  one  day  be  obliged  to 
embark  on  the  same  voyage,  on  which  I  am  just  embark- 
ing ;  and  as  it  has  been  my  especial  employment  during 
my  past  life  to  recommend  to  you  a  Pilot,  to  guide  you 
through  this  voyage,  I  wished  to  tell  you  what  a  precious 
Pilot  he  is,  that  you  may  be  induced  to  choose  him  for 
yours.  1  feel  desirous  that  you  might  see  that  the  religion 
I  have  preached  can  support  me  in  death.  You  know  that 
I  have  many  ties  which  bind  me  to  earth  ; — a  family  to 
whom  I  am  strongly  attached,  and  a  people  whom  I  love 
almost  as  well  : — but  the  other  world  acts  like  a  much 
stronger  magnet,  and  draws  my  heart  away  from  this. 
Death  comes  every  night  and  stands  by  my  bedside  in  the 
form  of  terrible  convulsions,  every  one  of  which  threatens 
to  separate  the  soul  from  the  body.  These  continue  to 
grow  worse  and  worse,  until  every  bone  is  almost  disloca- 
ted with  pain,  leaving  me  with  the  certainty  that  I  shall 

"The  dates  in  this  chapter  fix  the  tiine,  to  which  a  part  only  of 
his  observations  must  be  refer  ed  ;  senerally  t:  e  first,  or  first  two 
or  three  paragraphs,  which  follow  thetn.  The  preiise  date  of  most 
of  Ibem  is  not  recollected. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


419 


have  it  all  to  endure  again,  the  next  night.  Yet  while  my 
body  is  thus  tortured,  the  soul  is  perfectly,  perfectly  happy 
and  peaceful — more  happy  than  I  can  possibly  express  to 
you.  I  lie  here,  and  feel  these  convulsions  extending 
higher  and  higher,  without  the  least  uneasiness  ;  but  my 
soul  is  filled  with  joy  unspeakable.  I  seem  to  swim  in  a 
flood  of  glory  which  God  pours  down  upon  me.  And  I 
know,  I  know  that  my  happiness  is  but  begun  ;  I  cannot 
doubt  that  it  will  last  forever.  And  now  is  this  all  a  de- 
lusion ?  Is  it  a  delusion  which  can  fill  the  soul  to  over- 
flowing with  joy  in  such  circumstances?  If  so,  it  is  surely 
a  delusion  better  than  any  reality  :  but  no,  it  is  not  a  delu- 
sion ;  I  feel  that  it  is  not.  I  do  not  merely  know  that  I 
shall  enjoy  all  this,  I  enjoy  it  now. 

"  My  young  friends, — were  I  master  of  the  whole  world, 
what  could  it  do  for  me  like  this?  Were  all  its  wealth 
at  my  feet,  and  all  its  inhabitants  striving  to  make  me 
happy,  what  could  they  do  for  me?  Nothing! — nothing. 
Now  all  this  happiness  I  trace  back  to  the  religion  which 
I  have  preached,  and  to  the  time  when  that  great  change 
took  place  in  my  heart,  which  I  have  often  told  you  is 
necessary  to  salvation  :  and  I  now  tell  you  again,  that, 
without  this  change,  you  cannot,  no  you  cannot  see  the 
kingdom  of  God. 

And  now,  standing  as  I  do,  on  the  ridge  wliich  sepa- 
rates the  two  worlds,  feeling  what  intense  happiness  or 
misery  the  soul  is  capable  of  sustaining  ;  judging  of  your 
capacities  by  my  own,  and  believing  that  those  capacities 
will  be  filled  to  the  very  brim  with  joy  or  wretchedness 
forever ; — can  it  be  wondered  at,  that  my  heart  yearns 
over  you,  my  children,  that  you  may  choose  life  and  not 
death !  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  I  long  to  present 
every  one  of  you  with  a  full  cup  of  happiness,  and  see 
you  drink  it;  that  I  long  to  have  you  make  the  same 
choice  which  I  made,  and  from  which  springs  all  my 
happiness  ? 

"  A  young  man,  just  about  to  leave  this  world,  exclaim- 
ed, '  The  battle's  fought !  the  battle's  fought !  the  battle's 
fought !  but  the  victory  is  lost  forever.'  But  I  can  say. 
The  battle's  fought,  and  the  victory  is  won !  the  victory 
is  won,  forever !    I  am  going  to  bathe  in  «n  ocean  of  pu- 


420 


MEMOIR  OF 


rity  and  benevolence,  and  happiness,  to  all  eternity.  And 
now,  my  children,  let  me  bless  you  ;  not  with  the  bless- 
ing of  a  poor,  feeble,  dying  man,  but  with  the  blessing  of 
the  infinite  God.  The  grace  of  God,  and  the  love  of 
Christ,  and  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  with 
all,  and  each  one  of  you,  forever  and  ever ;  amen." 

Having  delivered  his  dying  messages  to  all  classes 
among  his  own  flock,  he  commissioned  a  ministering 
brother  to  bear  one  to  the  Association  of  ministers,  who 
were  to  meet  in  a  few  days.  The  purport  of  it  was — '  a 
hearty  assurance  of  the  ardent  love  with  which  he  remem- 
bered them  even  in  death  ;  an  exhortation  to  love  one 
another  with  a  pure  heart  fervently ;  to  love  their  work, 
to  be  diligent  in  it,  to  expect  success,  to  bear  up  under 
their  discouragements,  be  faithful  unto  death,  and  look 
for  their  reward  in  heaven.' — I  rejoice,  said  the  brother, 
rejoice  more  than  I  can  express,  to  be  the  bearer  of  such 
a  message  ;  for  you,  perhaps,  are  aware  that  many  of 
your  brethren  have  thought  you  distant,  and  reserved, 
and  as  having  cherished  too  little  of  a  fellow-feeling  to- 
wards them. — "  I  know  it,"  said  he;  "  but  my  apparent 
reserve  was  not  owing  to  any  want  of  affection  for  them, 
but  to  a  very  different  cause  :  I  have  been,  all  my  days, 
like  a  soldier  in  the  forefront  of  the  hottest  battle,  so  in- 
tent in  fighting  for  my  own  life,  that  /  could  not  see 
who  was  falling  around  me." 

While  speaking  of  the  rapturous  views  he  had  of  the 
heavenly  world,  he  was  asked  if  it  did  not  seem  almost 
like  the  clear  light  of  vision,  rather  than  that  of  faith. 
"  Oh  1  he  replied,  I  don't  know — it  is  too  much  for  the 
poor  eyes  of  my  soul  to  bear  1 — they  are  almost  blinded 
with  the  excessive  brightness.  All  I  want  is  to  be  a  mir- 
ror, to  reflect  some  of  those  rays  to  those  around  me." 

"  My  soul  instead  of  growing  weaker  and  more  lan- 
guishing as  my  body  does,  seems  to  be  endured  with  an 
angel's  energies,  and  to  be  ready  to  break  from  the  body, 
and  join  those  around  the  throne." 

A  friend,  with  whom  he  had  been  conversing  on  his 
extreme  bodily  sufferings,  and  his  high  spiritual  joys,  re- 
marked— "  I  presume  it  is  no  longer  incredible  to  you, 


EnWARD  PAYSON. 


421 


if  ever  it  was,  that  martyrs  should  rejoice  and  praise  God 
in  the  flames  and  on  the  rack  ?" — "  No,"  said  he,  "  I  can 
easily  believe  it.  I  have  suffered  twenty  times — yes,  to 
speaic  witliin  bounds — twenty  times  as  much,  as  I  could 
in  being  burnt  at  the  stake,  while  my  joy  in  God  so 
abounded,  as  to  render  my  sufferings  not  only  tolerable, 
but  welcome.  IVie  svferings  of  this  present  time  are  not 
worthy  to  he  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be  re* 
vealed." 

At  another  time, — "  God  is  literally  now  my  all  in  all. 
While  he  is  present  with  me,  no  event  can  in  the  least 
diminish  my  happiness  ;  and  were  the  whole  world  at  my 
feet,  trying  to  minister  to  my  comfort,  they  could  not  add 
one  drop  to  the  cup." 

"  It  seems  as  if  the  promise,  "  God  shall  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  their  eyes,"  was  already  fulfilled  to  me,  as  it 
respects  tears  of  sorrow.  I  have  no  tears  to  shed  now 
but  those  of  love  and  joy  and  thankfulness." 

Oct.  16. — To  his  daughter, — "You  will  avoid  much 
pain  and  anxiety,  if  you  will  learn  to  trust  all  your  con- 
cerns in  God's  hand.  '  Cast  all  your  care  upon  him  for 
he  careth  for  you.'  But  if  you  merely  go  and  say  that 
you  cast  your  care  upon  him,  you  will  come  away  with 
the  load  on  your  shoulders.  If  I  had  the  entire  disposal 
of  your  situation,  and  could  decide  how  many  scholars 
you  should  have,  and  what  success  you  should  meet  with, 
you  would  feel  no  anxiety,  but  would  rely  on  my  love  and 
wisdom  ;  and  if  you  should  discover  any  solicitude,  it 
would  show  that  you  distrusted  one  or  the  other  of  these. 
Now  all  your  concerns  are  in  the  hands  of  a  merciful  and 
wise  Father ;  therefore,  it  is  an  insult  to  him  to  be  care- 
ful and  anxious  concerning  them.  Trust  him  for  all, — 
abilities,  success,  and  every  thing  else,  and  you  will  never 
have  reason  to  repent  it." 

At  one  time  he  was  heard  to  break  forth  in  the  follow- 
ing soliloquy  : 

"  What  an  assemblage  of  motives  to  holiness  does  the 
gospel  present !    I  am  a  Christian — what  then  ?  Why, 


36 


422 


MEMOIR  OP 


I  am  a  redeemed  sinner — a  pardoned  rebel — all  througli 
grace,  and  by  the  most  wonderful  means  which  infinite 
wisdom  could  devise.  I  am  a  Christian — what  then  ? 
Why,  I  am  a  temple  of  God,  and  surely  I  ought  to  be 
pure  and  holy.  I  am  a  Christian — what  then  ?  I  am  a 
child  of  God,  and  ought  to  be  filled  with  filial  love,  rev- 
erence, joy  and  gratitude.  I  am  a  Christian — what  then  ? 
Why,  I  am  a  disciple  of  Christ,  and  must  imitate  him 
who  was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  pleased  not  him- 
self I  am  a  Christian — what  then  ?  Why,  I  am  an  heir 
gf  heaven,  and  hastening  on  to  the  abodes  of  the  blessed 
to  join  the  full  choir  of  glorified  ones,  in  singing  the  song 
of  Moses  and  the  Lamb ;  and  surely  I  ought  to  learn  that 
song  on  earth." 

To  Mrs.  Payson,  who,  while  ministering  to  him,  had 
observed, — "  Your  head  feels  hot  and  seems  to  be  dis- 
tended ;"  he  replied, — "  It  seems  as  if  the  soul  disdained 
such  a  narrow  prison,  and  was  determined  to  break 
through  with  an  angel's  energy,  and  I  trust  with  no  small 
portion  of  an  angel's  feeling,  until  it  mounts  on  high." 

Again,  "  It  seems  as  if  my  soul  had  found  a  pair  of 
new  wings,  and  was  so  eager  to  try  them,  that  in  her 
fluttering  she  would  rend  the  fine  net-work  of  the  body 
to  pieces." 

At  another  time,  "  My  dear,  I  should  think  it  might 
encourage  and  strengthen  you,  under  whatever  trials  you 
may  be  called  to  endure,  to  remember  me.  O  !  you  must 
believe  that  it  will  be  great  peace  at  last." 

At  another  time  he  said  to  her,  "  After  I  am  gone  you 
will  find  many  little  streams  of  beneficence  pouring  in 
upon  you,  and  you  will  perhaps  say,  '  I  wish  my  dear  hus- 
band were  here  to  know  this.'  My  dear,  you  may  think 
that  I  do  know  it  by  anticipation,  and  praise  God  for  it 
now." 

"  Hitherto  I  have  viewed  God  as  a  fixed  star,  bright 
indeed,  but  often  intercepted  by  clouds  ;  but  now  he  is 
coming  nearer  and  nearer  and  spreads  into  a  sun,  so  vast 
and  glorious  that  the  sight  is  too  dazzling  for  flesh  and 
blood  to  sustain."    This  was  not  a  blind  adoration  of  an 


EDWAKD  PAYSON. 


423 


yiiaginary  Deity ;  for,  added  he,  "  I  see  clearly  that  all 
these  same  glorious  and  dazzling  perfections,  which  now 
only  serve  to  kindle  my  affections  into  a  flame,  and  to 
melt  down  my  soul  into  the  same  blessed  image,  would 
burn  and  scorch  me,  like  a  consuming  fire,  if  I  were  an 
impenitent  sinner." 

He  saidTie  felt  no  solicitude  respecting  his  family,  he 
could  trust  them  all  in  the  hands  of  Christ.  To  feel  any 
undue  solicitude  on  their  account,  or  to  be  unwilling  to 
leave  them  with  God,  would  be  like  '  a  child  who  was 
reluctant  to  go  to  school,  lest  his  father  should  burn  up 
his  toys  and  play-things,  while  he  was  absent.' 

Conversing  with  a  friend  on  his  preparation  for  his  de- 
parture, he  compared  himself  to  "  a  person  who  had  been 
visiting  his  friends,  and  was  about  to  return  home.  His 
trunk  was  packed,  and  every  thing  prepared,  and  he  was 
looking  out  of  the  window,  waiting  for  the  stage  to  take 
him  in." 

When  speaking  of  the  sufferings  he  endured,  particu- 
larly the  sensation  of  burning  in  his  side  and  left  leg,  he 
said  that  if  he  expected  to  live  long  enough  to  make  it 
worth  while,  he  would  have  his  leg  taken  off.  On  Mrs. 
Payson's  uttering  some  expression  of  surprise,  he  replied 
— "  I  have  not  a  very  slight  idea  of  the  pain  of  amputa- 
tion ;  yet  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  suffer  more,  every  fifteen 
minutes,  than  I  should  in  having  my  leg  taken  off." 

His  youngest  child,  about  a  year  old,  had  been  under 
the  care  of  a  friend,  and  w  as  to  be  removed  a  few  miles 
out  of  town  ;  but  he  expressed  so  strong  a  wish  to  see 
Charles  first,  that  he  was  sent  for.  The  look  of  love,  and 
tenderness,  and  compassion,  with  which  he  regarded  the 
child,  made  an  indelible  impression  on  all  present. 

At  his  request,  some  of  the  choir  belonging  to  the  con- 
gregation, came  a  few  days  before  his  death,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  singing  for  his  gratification  some  of  the  songs  of 
Zion.  He  selected,  the  one  commencing,  '*  Rise  my  soul 
and  stretch  thy  wings ;"  part  of  the  hymn,  "  I'll  praise 
my  Maker  with  my  breath  ;"  and  the  "Dying  Christian 
to  his  soul." 


424 


MKMOIK  OF 


Sabbath  day,  October  31st,  his  kst  agony  coniinencetl. 
This  holy  man,  who  had  habitually  said  of  his  racking 
pains,  "  These  are  God's  arrows,  but  they  are  all  sharp- 
ened with  love" — and  who,  in  the  extremity  of  suffering, 
had  been  accustomed  to  repeat,  as  a  favorite  expression, 
"I  will  bless  the  Lord  at  all  times," — had  yet  the  "dying 
strife"  to  encounter.  It  commenced  with  the  same  diffi- 
culty of  respiration,  though  in  an  aggravated  degree, 
which  had  caused  him  great  distress,  at  intervals,  during 
his  sickness.  His  daughter,  who  had  gone  to  the  Sab- 
bath School,  without  any  apprehensions  of  so  sudden  a 
change,  was  called  home.  Though  laboring  for  breath,  and 
with  a  rattling  in  the  throat  similar  to  that  which  immedi- 
ately precedes  dissolution,  he  smiled  upon  her,  kissed  her 
affectionately,  and  said — "  God  bless  you,  my  daughter  !" 
Several  of  the  church  were  soon  collected  at  his  bedside  ; 
he  smiled  on  them  all,  but  said  little,  as  his  power  of  ut- 
terance had  nearly  failed.  Once  he  exclaimed,  "  Peace  ! 
peace  !  Victory !  victory  !"  He  looked  on  his  wife  and 
children,  and  said,  almost  in  the  words  of  dying  Joseph 
to  his  brethren — words,  which  he  had  before  spoken  of  as 
having  a  peculiar  sweetness,  and  which  he  now  wished  to 
recal  to  her  mind — "  I  aai  going,  but  God  will  surely  be 
with  you."  His  friends  watched  him,  expecting  every 
moment  to  see  him  expire,  till  near  noon,  when  his  dis- 
tress partially  left  him  ;  and  he  said  to  the  physician,  who 
was  feeling  his  pulse,  that  he  found  he  was  not  to  be  re- 
leased yet ;  and  though  he  had  suffered  the  pangs  of 
death,  and  got  almost  within  the  gates  of  Paradise — yet 
if  it  was  God's  will  that  he  should  come  back  and  suffer 
still  more,  he  was  resigned. — He  passed  through  a  simi- 
lar scene  in  the  afternoon,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  every 
one,  was  again  relieved.  The  night  following  he  suffer- 
ed less  than  he  had  the  two  preceding.  Friday  night  had 
been  one  of  inexpressible  suffering.  That,  and  the  last 
night  of  his  pilgrimage,  were  the  only  nights,  in  which  he 
had  watchers.  The  friend  who  attended  him  through  his 
last  night,  read  to  him,  at  his  request,  the  twelfth  chapter 
of  the  second  epistle  to  the  Corinthians ;  parts  of  which 
must  have  been  peculiarly  applicable  to  his  case. 

On  Monday  morning  his  dying  agonies  returned  in  all 
their  extremit^^.   For  three  hours  every  breath  was  a 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


425 


groan.  On  betng  asked  if  his  sufferings  were  greater, 
than  on  the  preceding  Friday  night,  he  answered,  "  In- 
comparably greater."  He  said  that  the  greatest  temporal 
blessing,  of  which  he  could  conceive,  would  be  one  breath 
of  air. — Mrs.  Payson,  fearing  from  the  expression  of  suf- 
fering in  his  countenance,  that  he  was  in  mental,  as  well 
as  bodily  anguish,  questioned  him  on  the  subject.  With 
extreme  difficulty,  he  was  enabled  to  articulate  the  words, 
"  Faith  and  patience  hold  out."  About  mid-day  the  pain 
of  respiration  al?ated,  and  a  partial  stupor  succeeded. 
Still,  however,  he  continued  intelligent,  and  evidently 
able  to  recognize  all  who  were  present.  His  eyes  spoke, 
after  his  tongue  became  motionless.  He  looked  on  Mrs. 
Payson,  and  then  his  eye,  glaiicing  over  the  others  who 
surrounded  his  bed,  rested  on  Edward,  his  eldest  son, 
with  an  expression  which  said — and  wliich  was  interpre- 
ted by  all  present,  to  say,  as  plainly  as  if  he  had  uttered 
the  words  of  the  beloved  disciple — "  Behold  thy  mother!" 
There  was  no  visible  indication  of  the  return  of  his  suffer- 
ings. He  gradually  sunk  away,  till  about  the  going  down 
of  the  sun,  when  his  happy  spirit  was  set  at  liberty. 

His  '  ruling  passion  was  strong  in  death.'  His  love  for 
preaching  was'as  invincible  as  that  of  the  miser  for  gold, 
who  dies,  grasping  his  treasure.  Dr.  Payson  directed  a 
label  to  be  attached  to  his  breast,  with  the  words — Re- 
member the  words  whiih  I  spake  unto  you,  while  I  was  yet 
present  with  you  ;  that  they  might  be  read  by  all  who 
came  to  look  at  his  corpse,  and  by  which  he,  being  dead, 
still  spake.  The  same  words,  at  the  request  of  his  peo- 
ple, were  engraven  on  the  plate  of  the  coffin,  and  read  by 
thousands  on  the  day  of  interment. 

His  funeral  sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Charles 
Jenkins,  pastor  of  the  Third  Church  in  Portland,  from 
2  Timothy,  IV.  6,  7,  8,  I  am  nowrenily  to  be  offered,  Sfc. 
"  The  gates  of  this  Zion  mourn,"  said  Mr.  Jenkins,  in 
his  introductory  paragraph  ;  "  for  her  watchman  sleeps 
in  death.  He  has  '  finished  hi^  course.'  His  voice  has 
ceased  forever  to  echo  along  these  consecrated  walls. 
We  beheld  him  descend  into  the  dark  valley,  shining  with 
new  and  more  heavenly  lustre.  And  now,  completely 
and  forever  escaped  from  the  damps  and  darkness  of  earth 
and  sin,  our  thoughts  delight  to  follow  him  amidst  the 
36* 

* 


426 


glories  of  that  pure  world,  where  '  they  that  are  wise  shine 
as  the  finnainent,  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteous- 
ness, as  the  stars  forever  and  ever  '  We  have  stood  ga- 
zing at  the  fiery  element  of  outward  suffering,  in  which 
he  was  borne  away,  until  all  has  vanished  ;  but  we  love 
to  linger  that  we  may  catch  something  of  that  spirit,  that 
made  him  "joyful  in  tribulation,"  and  triumphant  in 
death.  The  living  image  of  his  now  unconscious,  but 
beloved  form,  is  fondly  cherished  in  many  a  bosom,  while 
purer  affections,  and  livelier  faith,  behold  him  wearing 
a  crown  of  righteousness.  It  is  grateful  to  recur  in  mel- 
ancholy recollections  to  the  past,  and  hang  again  on  those 
lips,  which  are  sealed  in  perpetual  silence.  More  grate- 
ful still  is  it  to  glance  forward  on  the  strong  pinions  of 
hope  to  a  future  meeting  and  an  eternal  union  with  him, 
and  '  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect.'  " 

After  having  gone  through  with  the  discussion  of  his 
subject,  Mr.  Jenkins  thus  reverted  to  the  occasion  : 

"  Such,  my  hearers,  are  the  nature,  the  objects,  and  the 
grounds  of  the  dying  believer's  assurance.  They  are 
topics  which  sort  with  the  spontaneous  reflections  of  eve- 
ry serious  mind  on  an  occasion  like  the  present.  They 
are  topics  which  have  just  been  so  strikingly  exhibited  in 
the  last  days  of  our  dear  departed  friend,  that  every  thing 
I  have  attempted  to  offer,  has  appeared  to  me  scarcely 
other  than  the  accumulation  of  "  words  without  know- 
ledge." Had  he  not  interdicted  me  the  privilege,  I  would 
gladly  have  let  his  death-bed  speak  in  this  illustration. 
Instead  of  detaining  you  with  such  low  views  on  these  lof- 
ty  themes,  I  would  have  lifted  you  up  from  the  low  level 
of  our  ordinary  thoughts,  by  repeating  some  of  those 
'  burning  words  and  breathing  thoughts'  that  his  depart- 
ing soul  expressed.  And  even  now  I  may  not  be  denied 
the  privilege  of  exalting  the  grace  of  God  by  repeating  a 
few  of  his  expressions,  indicating  the  nature,  objects,  and 
grounds  of  his  assurance  as  he  stood  on  the  borders  ot 
two  worlds."  *  *  *  * 

"  Surely,  he  who  could  utter  such  language  was  ready 
to  he  offered — he  h.^.A  fought  a  good  fight;  he  had  finislir 
ed  his  course  in  triumph,  and  now  wears  the  victor'^ 


KDWARI)  PAYSON. 


42f 


I  rown  of  righteousness.  His  '  witness  is  in  heaven  ;  his 
record  is  on  high  ;'  and  there  his  eternal  weight  of  glory 
IS  begun. 

"  And  what  shall  I  say  more  ?  I  might  speak  of  his 
gifted  intellect — I  might  dwell  on  its  wonderful  powers 
of  combination;  on  that  excursive  faculty,  which  forever 
glancing  from  earth  to  heaven,  and  from  heaven  to  earth, 
could  gather  the  universe  around  him  in  aid  of  his  illus- 
trations.— But  to  speak  on  these  points  becomes  not  this 
solemn  occasion.  He  would  frown  on  the  attempt.  He 
counted  all  these  "  loss  for  Christ."  If  I  may  speak  of 
his  character,  it  shall  be  that  character,  which  had  so 
conspicuously  the  Christian  st?Lmp.  In  this  respect  grace 
made  him  great.  It  wrodght  a  deep  work  in  his  soul 
The  predominant  features  of  his  whole  mind,  for  many 
years,  were  high  spiritual  views,  and  deep  spiritual  feel- 
ings. These  tinged,  or  rather  were  the  element  of,  his 
thoughts  and  efforts.  His  natural  ardor  of  tempera- 
ment doubtless  affected,  not  a  little,  his  religious  exerci- 
ses. It  gave  them  violence  and  energy.  His  seasons  of 
spiritual  elevation,  were  heaven  brought  down  to  earth. 
His  seasons  of  religious  depression  resembled  the  storms 
of  aulunm,  sudden,  dark,  tlireatening — leaving  a  serener 
and  purer  sky,  but  betokening  that  winter  is  approaching. 
He  was  pre-eminently  a  man  of  prayer.  There  was  in 
his  prayers  a  copiousness,  a  fervor,  a  familiarity,  a  reach- 
ing forth  of  the  soul  into  eternity,  that  was  almost  pecu- 
liar to  himself;  and  that  told  every  hearer,  that  heaven 
was  his  element,  and  prayer  his  brealh,  and  life,  and  joy. 
As  a  preacher,  it  is  easier  to  f»ay  what  he  was  not,  than 
what  he  was.  He  was  eloquent,  and  yet  no  one  could  de- 
scribe his  eloquence  to  the  apprehension  of  a  stranger. 
It  consisted  in  an  assemblage  of  qualities,  that  could  be 
seen  and  felt,  but  not  described.  He  did  not  preach  him- 
self His  subject  always  stood  between  himself  and  his 
audience.  Ah  !  I  will  not — I  cannot  enlarge.  Let  the 
thousand  voices  of  those,  who  have  been  brought  to  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  by  his  ministrations,  tell  what  he  was 
as  a  preacher. 

 "  Shall  I  speak  of  his  loss?  To  this  religious  com- 
munity it  is  great.  Few,  at  his  period  of  life,  have  left  an 
mfluence  operating  so  widely  and  usefully  on  the  mora! 


428 


MEJTOIR  OF 


and  religious  condition  of  men.  That  influence  has  gone 
very  far.  It  is  flying,  and  will  long  be  flying  among  the 
winged  messengers  of  salvation." 


Having  followed  this  distinguished  servant  of  Jesus 
from  the  commencement  to  the  termination  of  his  useful 
career,  an  extended  analysis  of  his  character  would  form 
an  appropriate  conclusion  to  the  book.  Such  an  analy- 
sis was  contemplated,  but  is  preclud  d  by  the  unexpected 
size  to  which  the  volume  has  already  ^rrown.  The  omis- 
sion will  be  the  less  regretted,  as  its  place  is  supplied  by 
a  fuller  developement  of  facts,  from  which  that  character 
may  be  more  accurately  a^.d  minutely  known.  By  draw- 
ing attention  to  a  few  points,  "however, — which  will  be 
stated  with  as  much  brevity  as  possible — some  erroneous 
impressions  may  be  obviated,  and  the  benefit  of  a  large 
class  of  readers  consulted. 

His  physical  conformation  was  of  a  very  delicate  struc- 
ture, extremely  sensitive  and  easily  excited,  ranking  him 
beyond  all  question  with  the  genus  irritabih  vatum.  His 
constitutional  tendencies  were  strengthened,  and  his  suf- 
ferings from  this  source  aggravated,  by  his  lamentable 
imprudence,  in  venturing  on  a  course  of  severe  absiinence 
and  protracted  mental  efforts,  under  which  his  nature 
mxak.  Here  w  as  the  great  error  of  his  life.  To  censure 
a  ii'an  for  constitutional  infirmity  is  as  unjust  and  inhu- 
man, as  to  censure  him  for  a  bodily  deformity,  which  he 
had  no  agency  in  producing.  The  aggravation  of  natu- 
ral evils  by  voluntary  acts  is,  however,  a  just  subject  of 
animadversion.*     Nervous  irritability  and  consequent 

*^It  is  not  eas}'  to  determine  how  far  a  man  is  accountable  in  a 
case  like  this.  There  is  a  general  propensity  to  pronounce  rash 
and  cruel  judgment  upon  men  thus  affected  ;  or,  wjiat  is  worse,  to 
treat  them  with  unfeeling  ridic.le. — It  is  some  apology  for  Dr. 
Payson  that  the  health  of  sedentary  men  had  not,  at  the  time  of 
hia  error,  become  the  sul  iect  of  much  attention  ;  his  Vvas  in  part 
th""  sin  of  ignorance.  The  case  is  now  different.  Much  has  been 
said,  and  much  uritteu  on  the  subject :  and  there  is  in  the  Chris- 
tian Spectator  for  April,  1827,  an  essay  on  the  Inflntnce  of  vVer- 
TOiLS  IHsordtrs  upon  Religious  Experience,  which  ought  to  be  read 
in  connection  with  this  memoir. 

In  aa  earlier  number  of  the  same  work,  (April,  1826,)  is  an  arti- 


KDVVAllI)  l'AVfbt)N. 


429 


depression  was  an  ingredient  in  Dr.  Payson's  nature,  and 
would,  without  doubt,  have  been  equally  conspicuous,  and 
vastly  more  disastrous  in  its  effects,  had  he  lived  a  stran- 
ger to  experimental  religion.  Though  he  suffered  incon- 
ceival)ly  in  his  own  person,  from  this  cause,  yet  he  .seems 
to  have  had  it  so  far  under  his  control,  that  it  seldom,  if 
ever  diminished  his  usefulness,  or  was  attended  with  ill 
effects  in  relation  toothers.  He  was  not  incessantly  dol- 
ing out  his  complaints  into  the  ears  of  his  fellow-crea- 
tures ;  he  kept  them  chiefly  to  himself  He  was  too 
wise  to  sue  for  sympathy  from  "  nerves  of  wire." 

His  melancholy  never,  in  a  single  instance  that  is  re- 
collected,brought  him  into  'bondage  through  fear  of  death.' 
He  invariably  contemplated  an  exchange  of  worlds  with 
complacency,  as  a  desirable  event,  "  a  consummation 
devoutly  to  be  wished." 

As  rarely  almost  did  it  disqualify  him  for,  or  indispose 
him  to,  any  official  labor,  which  was  demanded  by  the 
state  of  his  flock.    However  reduced  in  strength  or  de- 

cle  On,  the  Mutual  Influence  of  the  Mind  and  Body,  which  is  deserv- 
ing the  consideration  of  all  who  would  judge  rightly  of  the  phe- 
nomena that  are  sometimes  witnessed  in  the  subjects  of  nervous 
affections.    We  quote  a  few  sentences  : — 

"  All  these  feelings  are  not  in  such  .ases  strictly  moral,  nor  are 
we  accountable  for  them,  except  as  wc  are  accountable  for  induc- 
ing that  state  of  physical  organization  from  which  thev  result. — 
They  are  the  offspring  of  a  diseased  mind,  and  cannot  be  shaken 
off  whilst  the  physical  cause  remains.  Every  physical  st.ite  of  the 
nervou- system  has  a  correspondent  state  of  mental  emotion,  and 
to  remove  th  •  latter  the  former  must  be  chan  red.        *     *  * 

'■But  although  physical  causes  have  so  extensive  and  important 
an  influence  upon  the  mind,  though  they  so  often  weaken  and  dis- 
organize its  powers,  yet  no  mental  diseases  are  so  little  understood 
as  those  originating  in  a  physical  cause,  none  excite  so  little  sym- 
pathy, none  are  more  real,  and  none  give  rise  to  more  exquisite 
suffering.  Th*  unhappy  victim  is  perhaps  ridicul  d,  or  if  not  ri- 
diculed, passes  long  and  wretched  hours  in  the  miserable  world, 
presented  through  the  medium  of  a  diseased  mind,  till  death  sweeps 
him  and  his  sorrows  to  the  land  of  forgetfulness  ;  yet  while  the 
physical  cause  continues  its  influence,  a  m  »n  might  as  well  attempt 
to  heap  I'elion  on  Ossa,  as  to  remove  from  his  burdened  mind  the 
pressure  of  distempered  imaginations.  I,ct  those  testify,  upon 
whom  dyspepsia  has  laid  her  leaden  hand,  quenching  the  lire  of 
feeling  and  imagination,  checking  the  flow  of  intellect,  and  haunt- 
ing the  mind  with  spectral  apparitions  of  unreal  evil." 


430 


MtMUlK  Of 


pressed  in  feelings,  lie  was  quick  to  hear  and  prompt  fo 
obey  all  pastordl  calls  ;  and  often  did  so  when  he  needed 
to  be  in  his  bed,  and  under  the  care  of  the  nurse  or  phy- 
sician. 

It  never  rendered  him  unequal  to  the  most  sudden  and 
trying  emergencies  of  life.  He  could  meet,  with  the  ut- 
most readiness,  any  demands  which  unexpected  and  dis- 
tressing events  made  upon  him.  In  the  alarm  of  a  con- 
flagration, when  confusion  of  mind  and  general  agitation 
rendt-r  worse  than  useless  one  half  of  the  endeavors  which 
are  made  to  stay  the  calamity,  and  rescue  property  and 
lives  from  destruction,  he  was  cool  and  collected,  and 
a  most  efficient  helper.  In  time  of  war  and  public  ca- 
lamity, his  mind  was,  if  ever,  kept  in  perfect  peace. 
The  most  undisturbed  composure  and  resignation  were 
apparent  in  him,  when  the  objects  of  his  dearest  earthly 
affections  were  languishing  and  undergoing  mortal  ago- 
nies before  his  eyes  ;  the  same  was  true,  when  tortures, 
like  those  of  the  rack,  seized  and  convulsed  his  own 
frame.  He  has  been  known  also  to  walk  deliberately  up, 
and  cut  the  cord  by  which  a  suicide  w  as  suspended,  when 
others,  of  firm  nerves,  stood  gazing,  horror-stricken  at 
the  spectacle. 

That  it  was  originally  his  calamity,  and  not  his  crime, 
is  further  evident  from  the  fact,  that  it  bore  upon  him 
with  almost  insupportable  weight  at  some  times  when 
faith  and  hope  co-e.xisted  with  it.  In  all  his  private  wri- 
tings, no  expressions  have  been  found  indicative  of  a 
more  keen  sense  of  suffering  from  this  c  luse,  than  some 
■which  he  penned,  when  his  hope  of  heaven  existed  to  a 
degree,  amounting  almost  to  assurance.  "  This  oppres- 
sive melancholy  cut  the  very  sinews  of  the  soul,  so  that 
it  could  not  throw  off  the  load.  ' 

This  maladv  may  be  regarded  as  having  reached  its 
climax,  during  his  first  essays,  as  a  preacher.  There  had 
been  causes,  favoring  its  rapid  progress,  which  did  not 
afterwards  exist.  And  notwithstanding  the  greater  sub- 
sequent prostration  of  his  health,  its  general  symptoms 
wore  a  mitigated  aspect,  and  became  less  distressing  from 
year  to  year.  Some  short  seasons  are  to  be  excepted 
from  this  general  remark,  p.irticularly  portions  of  the 
year  or  two  ne.xt  preceding  that  in  which  he  died, — when 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


431 


in  addition  to  his  extreme  weakness,  his  mind  was  agi- 
tated by  questions  of  great  moment  to  the  general  inter- 
ests of  religion.  Though  his  light  was  obscured  by  a 
temporary  cloud,  yet  was  his  path,  in  an  emphatic  sense, 
like  the  rising  sun,  shining  more  and  more,  unto  the  per- 
fect day.  Probably  there  was  not  a  day  during  the  last 
six  months  of  his  life,  in  which  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
did  not  shine  upon  him  in  full-orbed  splendor. 

As  there  are  '  laws  pertaining  to  the  union  of  mind 
and  body  which  affect  them  in  common,'  it  is  a  matter 
of  course,  that  the  disorders  of  his  physical  frame  should 
modify  in  some  degree  the  exercises  of  his  mind  and  his 
religious  affections.  Hence  we  have  seen  him  writing 
bitter  things  against  himself  for  causes,  which,  with  a 
different  temperament,  would  have  given  him  little  unea- 
siness. We  have  seen  him,  at  times,  "  poring  so  closely 
over  his  own  frame  of  mind,  as  scarcely  to  be  able  to  lift 
up  his  eyes  to  the  cross  :  or  if  his  eyes  glanced  that  way, 
they  were  so  suffused  with  penitential  tears,  that  they  saw 
but  dimly  the  merit  of  the  Saviour's  blood,  the  compas- 
sions of  his  heart,  and  the  freeness  of  his  salvation."  At 
one  stage  of  his  religious  progress  he  seems  to  have  been 
so  anxious  for  happy  frames,  that,  without  being  con- 
scious of  it  at  the  time,  the  obtaining  of  such  frames  was, 
perhaps,  the  immediate  end  of  his  offices  of  devotion  ;  and 
according  to  their  state  he  graduated  his  hope.  As  those 
were  joyful  or  gloomy,  this  was  elevated  or  depressed. — 
This  error,  and  the  sore  chastisement  which  he  suffered 
in  consequence,  he  in  his  last  days  held  forth  as  a  warn- 
ing to  a  near  relative  whom  he  supposed  to  be  in  danger 
of  a  similar  mistake. 

His  religion  also,  in  his  own  view,  was,  for  a  time  at 
least,  tinged  with  romance.  This  resulted  from  his  ar- 
dor of  temperament.  "  By  religious  romance,"  he  once 
said  in  conversation,  "  I  mean  the  indulgence  of  unwar- 
ranted expectations  ;  expectations,  that  our  sins  are  to  be 
subdued  at  once,  in  some  uncommon  way,  or  by  some  un- 
common means  ;  just  as  a  man  would  expect  to  become 
rich  by  drawing  a  prize  in  a  lottery,  or  in  some  other 
hap-hazard  way.  We  cannot  indeed  expect  too  much,  if 
we  regulate  our  expectations  by  the  word  of  God  ;  but 
we  may  expect  more  than  he  warrants  us  to  expect,  and 


432 


MEMOIR  OF 


when  our  unwarranted  expectations  are  disappointed,  we 
are  apt  to  sink  into  despondency.  Christians,  whose  nat- 
ural feelings  are  strong,  are  most  liable  to  run  into  this  er- 
ror. But  I  know  of  no  way  to  make  progress  in  holiness, 
but  the  steady,  humble,  persevering  practice  of  medita- 
tion, prayer,  watchfulness,  self-denial,  and  good  works. 
If  we  use  these  means,  our  progress  is  certain." 

None  of  these  defects,  however,  entered  so  deeply  into 
the  character  of  his  religion  as  to  conceal  the  marks  of  its 
genuineness,  or  scarcely  to  obscure  them.  The  features 
which  proclaimed  its  heavenly  origin  and  its  heavenly 
tendency  were  strongly  marked  and  abiding.  Almost  from 
its  commencement,  we  have  seen  him  habitually  discrimin- 
ating between  'the  real  and  the  imaginary,  the  scriptural 
and  the  erroneous,  the  precious  and  the  vile,'  in  his  own 
religious  emotions.  He  has  been  the  first  to  apply  to 
them  the  only  infallible  test,  and  the  first  to  detect  and 
abjure  whatevei  did  not  sustain  the  trial  of  scripture. 
We  see  him,  in  reference  to  his  own  exercises,  making 
the  distinction  between  disf?-ess  of  mind  and  brokenness  qjf 
heart,  and  between  other  affections  which  a  hypocrite  or 
a  deluded  man  would  be  certain  to  confound. 

Ardent  and  impassioned  as  was  his  religion,  it  is  never- 
theless a  noticeable  fact,  that  seldom,  if  ever,  did  an  ex- 
pression of  the  workings  of  the  heart  towards  the  object 
of  his  supreme  affections  escape  him,  even  in  private, 
which  was  suited  to  awaken  degrading  and  earthly  asso- 
ciations. .The  impression  must  be  deeply  imprinted  on 
every  reader,  that  the  intercourse  which  he  maintained 
with  God  was  a  holy  intercourse.  While  he  was  filled 
with  the  highest  admiration  of  the  condescension  of  God, 
and  talked  with  him  almost  with  the  same  familiarity 
with  which  a  man  addresses  his  friend,  it  was  still  with  the 
profoundest  reverence,  and  with  a  deep-seated  conscious- 
ness of  the  distance  between  the  Creator  and  the  crea- 
ture :  a  characteristic,  which  belongs  to  no  enthusiast. 

His  devotional  contemplations,  even  when  they  have 
most  the  appearance  of  extravagance,  differ  widely  from 
the  reveries  of  the  enthusiast.  He  is  no  where  seen  re- 
garding himself  as  the  only  creature  in  the  universe,  or 
as  the  peculiar  favorite  of  heaven  ;  nor  exulting  in  the 
thought  of  being  saved  and  made  eternally  happy,  inde- 


EDWAUI)  PAYSON. 


433 


pendently  of  the  medium  through  which  salvation  is  ef- 
fected. He  saw  and  felt,  that  there  were  interests  to  be 
consulted  of  more  importance  to  the  universe,  than  his 
individual  happiness  ;  and  wished  to  be  saved  in  no  way, 
which  would  put  these  interests  in  jeopardy.  If  there 
was  a  single  attribute  of  Jehovah,  which  he  contempla- 
ted with  more  exquisite  pleasure  than  any  other,  or  one 
which  he  desired  above  all  to  imitate,  it  was  holiness. 
And  seldom  did  his  thoughts  revert  to  this  perfection,  with- 
out an  earnest  prayer,  that  his  fellow  creatures  might 
become  holy. — If  there  were  ever  a  time  when  his  relig- 
ion might  be  mistaken  for  a  "  moping  sentimentalism," 
or  a  '  monkish  religion,'  it  was  while  he  pursued  in  sol- 
itude his  studies  preparatory  to  the  ministry  ;  but  even 
then,  it  was  not  '  that  sickly  sensitiveness,  which  serves 
only  to  divert  attention  from  what  is  important  in  practi- 
cal virtue.'  His  immediate  relations  to  his  fellow  men 
were  then  comparatively  few,  and  made  only  small  and 
infrequent  demands  upon  his  time  and  attention,  and 
sufficiently  account  for  the  appearance  which  his  relig- 
ion then  assumed.  But  even  at  that  time,  he  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  deficient  in  relative  duty  ;  and  when 
(^l^es  of  this  class  were  greatly  multiplied,  he  was  a  pat- 
tSii  of  fidelity,  punctuality,  and  perseverance.  His  prac- 
tice of  all  the  moral  virtues  was  so  exact  and  thorough, 
that  the  bitterest  enemy  was  unable  to  detect  any  delin- 
quency. And  with  a  heart  fiill  charged  with  benevo- 
lence, he  was  ever  '  doing  good  to  all  men  as  he  had 
opportunity,  especially  to  them  of  the  household  of  faith.' 
In  short,  if  the  existence  of  true  religion  is  to  be  known 
by  its  practical  fruits,  we  know  not  the  man,  who  could 
sustain  a  closer  scrutiny,  than  Dr.  Payson.  He  was  re- 
markably free  from  one  class  of  indulgencies,  to  which 
his  constitution  and  often  infirmities  must  have  predis- 
posed him,  and  to  which  he  must  have  been  strongly 
tempted  by  the  fashions  of  society,  when  the  use  of  stim- 
ulatmg  drinks  was  common  in  all  circles,  and  the  glass 
was  tendered  almost  with  the  first  salutation!  But  he 
kept  himself  pure.  This  and  similar  facts  show  very 
strikingly  the  strength  of  religious  principle  in  his  soul, 
and  how  much  he  owed  to  divine  grace. 

The  faults  of  Dr.  Payson  were  of  a  kind  suited  t^make 
37 


434 


MEMOIR  OF 


an  impression  altogether  disproportionate  to  their  moral 
obliquity.  To  a  stranger,  who  had  seen  him  but  once 
and  under  the  influence  of  those  exasperated  and  de- 
sponding feelings  with  which  he  left  the  conference  room,* 
— and  there  were  two  or  three  such  occurrences  in  the 
course  of  his  life, — he  would,  probably,  have  appeared 
rash,  petulant,  and  unreasonably  severe  ;  and  this  sudden 
tide  of  disagreeable  feelings  would  have  been  taken  for 
his  general  character.  A  stranger  would  not  know,  what 
his  church  knew,  that  by  the  time  he  had  reached  his 
home,  he  had  assumed  to  himself  the  blame  which  he 
had  charged  upon  them  ;  and  that,  the  first  opportu.ii- 
ty,  he  would  meet  them  with  subdued  feelings  and  the 
humility  of  a  child.  A  transient  observer  would  not  have 
seen  the  influence  of  this  step  on  the  church ;  and  that 
nothing  could  have  been  so  effectual  to  produce  relentings 
in  them,  and  bring  them  back  to  their  duty,  as  the  re- 
flection that  they  had  so  deeply  grieved  the  heart  of  him 
who  was  ready  to  spend  and  be  spent  for  their  salvation. 
Mutual  confession  and  forgiveness  has  a  wonderful  effect 
in  softening  the  heart,  and  preparing  it  for  the  reception 
of  divine  influences  ;  and  never  had  mere  man  a  more 
exorable  and  forgiving  spirit  than  Dr.  Payson. 

Another  precious  mark  of  the  genuineness  of  his  t^flg- 
lon  was  his  bowing  with  entire  reverence  to  the  supreme 
authority  of  divine  revelation.  This  was  strikingly  ap- 
parent from  the  time  when  he  first  knew  its  value  by 
experience,  by  his  making  it  his  almost  exclusive  study, 
as  a  preparation  for  preaching,  and  by  his  daily  devotioa* 
to  it  till  his  death.  He  had  no  favorite  dogma,  no  fig- 
ment of  the  imagination,  no  theoretical  speculation  or 
practical  views,  which  he  was  not  ready  to  discard  at 
once,  if  they  were  seen  to  clash  in  the  least  with  the 
scriptures  of  truth-  These  were  his  chart,  his  pole-star, 
his  '  light  shining  in  a  dark  place,  to  which  he  did  well 
to  take  heed.'  He  opened  them  with  the  docilijy  of  a 
child,  and  '  drank  in  the  sincere  milk  of  the  word'  with 
exquisite  relish.  To  him  they  were  '  more  preci-ius  than 
gold,  sweeter  than  honey,  and  more  highly  prized  than 
his  necessary  food.'  And  in  this  love  and  reverence  for 
the  scriptures  may  be  seen  the  reason,  why,  constituted 

»  pp.  388. 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


435 


as  he  was,  he  was  never  led  astray  by  the  pride  of  opin- 
ion, never  drawn  into  ensnaring  errors  by  his  salient  im- 
agination. Every  thought,  sentiment,  fancy,  and  opin- 
ion was  daily  corrected  by  the  word  of  God.  It  was  this 
steadfast  adherence  to  his  Rule,  that  kept  him  in  "  the 
good  and  right  way." 

The  last  mark  of  the  genuineness  of  his  religion  which 
will  be  noticed  is,  his  perseverance.  Had  his  fervor  of 
atfection  abated  and  left  him  in  a  state  of  apathy ;  had 
he  let  down  his  watch,  suspended  his  efforts,  and  ceased 
striving  to  reach  '  the  fulness  of  the  stature  of  a  perfect 
man  in  Christ  Jesus,'  this  temporary  ardor  might  justly 
have  brought  his  piety  under  suspicion,  as  being  nothing 
better  than  a  species  of  religious  wild-fire.  But,  as  it  has 
been  well  remarked  by  a  late  writer,  "  Where  there  is 
no  error  of  imagination — no  misjudging  of  realities — no 
calculations  which  reason  condemns,  there  is  no  enthu- 
siasm, even  though  the  soul  may  be  on  fire  with  the  ve- 
locity of  its  movement  in  pursuit  oflts  chosen  object." 
With  the  velocity,  with  which  he  had  commenced  his 
race,  he  continued  to  move,  accelerated  too  by  the  mo- 
mentum which  he  had  acquired  in  his  progress.  His  re- 
ligion was  '  the  water  which  Christ  gives,  and  was  in 
him  a  well  of  water,  springing  up  into  everlasting  life.' 
These  remarks  apply  to  his  performance  of  particular 
duties,  as  well  as  to  his  general  progress.  One  of  his 
own  precious  "gems  of  thought""  will  here  be  introdu- 
ced to  illustrate  the  principle  upon  which  he  acted,  and 
the  principle  which  kept  action  alive,  not  in  one  mode 
only,  but  in  every  method  by  which  man  can  express 
affection*  for  the  Saviour  : 

"  It  has  been  frequently  wished  by  Christians,  that 
there  were  some  rule  laid  down  in  the  Bible,  fixing  the 
proportion  of  their  property  which  they  ought  to  contri- 
bute to  religious  uses.  This  is  as  if  a  child  should  go 
to  his  father,  and  say,  "  Father,  how  many  times  in  the 
day  must  I  corne  to  you  with  some  testimonial  of  my 
love  ?  how  often  will  it  be  necessary  to  show  my  affec- 
tion for  you  ?'— The  father  would,  of  course,  reply,  '  Just 
as  often  as  your  feelings  prompt  you,  my  child,  and  no 
oftener.'    Just  so  Christ  says  to  his  people.    Look  at  me, 


436 


MEMOIR  OF 


and  see  what  I  have  done  and  suffered  for  you,  and  then 
give  rae  just  what  you  think  I  deserve.  I  do  not  wish 
any  thing  forced." 

Here,  unquestionably,  is  the  measure,  and  the  obliga- 
tion of  Christian  duty,  which  he  endeavored  to  keep  con- 
tinually in  his  own  eye.  He  loved  much,  for  much  had 
been  forgiven  him.  He  daily  looked  to  Christ,  and  saw 
continually  increasing  reasons  for  increased  love,  zeal, 
and  duty.  His  '  religious  emotions  were  strenirthened  by 
constant  exercise,'  and  the  utterance  of  them  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  heavenly  Father.  The  constant  practice  of 
duty,  gave  him  increased  ability  for  duty.  He  continued 
his  approaches  to  the  throne  of  grace  through  all  the 
changes  of  iiis  atHicted,  joyful  life.  If  any  man  on  earth 
could  meet  the  challenge — "  Will  he  alwat/s  call  upon 
God  !" — that  mav  was  Edward  Payson.  And  the  "eter- 
nal sun-shine''  which  began  to  settle  on  his  soul,  before 
it  left  the  body,  is*evidence  that  he  was  heard  and  ac- 
cepted. 

It  may  be  regarded  as  an  inexcusable  omission,  not  to 
glance  at  his  intellectual  qualities,  in  connection  with  the 
great  purposes  for  which  he  employed  them.  This  may 
be  (lone  by  introducing  an  extract,  addressed  to  his  church 
ajid  congregation  at  the  Installation  of  his  successor,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Tyler,  by  President  Allen. 

"  His  vigorous  intellect  could  grasp  high  subjects.  Nor 
was  his  knowledge  limited  to  one  department.  It  had  a 
witre  range,  as  his  curiosity  was  insatiable,  and  his  acqui- 
sitions made  with  the  utmost  rapidity.  But  frote  all  the 
fields  of  science  be  brought  illustrations  of  the  great  prin- 
ciples of  religion,  which  it  was  his  business  and  delight  to 
communicate  to  his  fellow  men. 

"  Among  the  valuable  qualities,  with  which  it  pleased 
the  great  Author  of  his  mind  to  endow  him,  fanci/  or  im- 
agination  was  very  conspicuous,  and  very  important. 
This  essence  of  the  poet  belonged  to  him  in  a  high  degree. 
If  there  are,  among  the  preachers  of  the  gospel,  men  of 
strong  intellect  and  close  argument,  who  reason  with  great 
force,  without  deriving  any  aid  from  the  imaginative  fac- 
ulty :  yet  such  was  not  the  characteristic  of  his  preaching. 


EDWARD  PAYSOK. 


437 


Nor  am  I  persuaded  that  the  highest  powers  of  reasoning 
on  moral  subjects  can  be  separated  from  the  resources  of 
a  well-stored  fancy.  In  Mathematical  reasoning,  which 
is  founded  wholly  on  definitions,  or  a  iew'texpressed  con- 
ceptions or  notions,  the  process  is  indeed  to  be  carried  on, 
as  the  smith  makes  %.  chain,  by  adding  link  to  link.  The 
argument  is  uniform  and  of  one  material.  There  is  no 
place  for  illustrations  ;  no  opportunity  for  the  colorings  of 
fancy. 

"  But  if  we  reason  on  moral  subjects,  the  case  is  very 
different.  We  do  not  set  out  with  clear,  unquestioned 
definitions,  and  adequate  notions.  Our  very  conceptions 
of  spiritual  truths  nmst  be  aided  by  means  of  the  objects 
presented  to  our  senses.  The  imagination  must  assist  the 
intellect.  Without  this  imaginative  faculty,  this  power  of 
comparing  different  objects,  of  perceiving  the  analogies  of 
the  universe,  I  do  not  know  how  we  can  Ibrm  the  best  no- 
tions of  the  divine  attributes;  and  sure  I  am,  that  with- 
out this  faculty  we  are  ill  qualified  to  be  teachers  of  others, 
and  must  be  very  defiicent  in  the  power  of  rousing  the 
sluggish  attention,  of  aiding  the  efforts  of  the  weak  intel- 
lect, of  irradiating  the  cloudy  conception,  and  of  strength- 
ening the  vision  for  the  view  of  the  dist»nt  and  the  obscure. 
Our  Master  and  Teacher,  the  great  Author  and  Finisher 
of  our  faith  very  frequently  illustrated  spiritual  things  by 
means  of  material  objects,  and  has  shewn  us  how  to  make 
nature,  as  she  should  be,  the  handmaid  of  religion.  Dr. 
Payson,  from  the  ample  storehouse  of  his  fancy,  often 
brought  forth  images  and  symbols,  enabling  him  to  exhib- 
it clearly  his  conceptions,  which  might  otherwise  havei 
been  unintelligible,  and  to  transport  his  hearers,  as  it  were, 
in  spite  of  themselves,  to  the  deep  and  never  opened  pris- 
on, where  is  weeping,  wailing,  and  gna-hing  of  teeth, — 
and  also  to  the  bright,  and  pure,  and  all  glorious  presence 
of  God,  and  to  the  immediate  glance  of  that  all-piercing 
eye,  from  which  iniquity  shrinketh  away  in  terror  and 
horror. 

"Other  elements  are  yet  to  be  considered  in  estimating 
his  power  as  a  preacher.  It  was  not  merely,  that  his 
mind  was  s  tive  and  >trong,  and  that  he  could  scatter  the 
radiance  if  an  unv.qualled  fancy  over  the  abstrusest  con- 
ceptions and  mingle  delight  with  instruction.    In  addition 


438 


MEMOIR  OF 


to  this,  his  power  as  a  preacher  was  the  power  of  his  own 
deep-seated  conviction  of  the  infinite  importance  of  the 
truths,  which  he  communicated,  and  of  the  realities  of  the 
invisible  world,  which  he  described ; — the  power  of  ar- 
dent, unquestioned  piety. 

"  His  eloquence  was  very  different  from  studied  oratory. 
There  was  no  elegance  of  gesture  and  no  display.  Yet 
the  deep  tones  of  his  voice,  uttering  tremendous  warnings, 
were  calculated  to  startle  the  secure,  while  the  blessed 
promises  of  the  gospel  came  from  his  lips  in  the  mild  and 
gladdening  accents  of  one,  whose  soul  rejoiced  in  God 
his  Saviour." 

Scarcely  an  individual  has  ever  been  heard  to  speak  of 
Dr.  Payson's  intellectual  qualities,  who  did  not  fix  upon 
imagination  as  the  predominant  characteristic  in  the  struc- 
ture of  his  mind  ;  and  it  is  often  referred  to  as  a  simple 
faculty,  involving  the  exercise  of  no  other  powers.  A 
distinct  and  lively  perception  of  truths  and  objects,  a  pow- 
er of  comparison,  abstraction,  and  combination,  are  essen- 
tial constituents  of  this  faculty,  as  it  exists  in  the  poet  ; 
and  such  was  it  in  him.  If  he  had  devoted  himself  to  the 
Muses,  he  might  have  taken  a  high  rank  among  the  "  sons 
of  song."  As  it  was,  the  inspiration  of  poetry  pervades 
his  moral  and  religious  discussions  ;  and  in  a  manner  alto- 
gether as  agreeable,  and  far  more  useful,  than  if  it  were 
presented  in  measured  lines.  His  imagination  was  under 
the  control  of  judgment,  and  entirely  subservient  to  the 
objects  he  had  in  view.  It  was  never  employed  to  excite 
wonder,  but  always  to  convey  instruction.  Its  boldest 
flights  disclose  a  very  exact  and  delicate  perception  of  the 
relations  of  different  subjects  :  and  his  selection  of  the  cir- 
cumstances for  comparison,  a  most  discriminating  judg- 
ment. Of  all  the  ten  thousand  illustrations  of  moral  and 
religious  truths,  with  which  this  faculty  supplied  him, 
scarcely  one  failed  of  being  a  type, — I  had  almost  said,  a 
perfect  type  or  representation  of  the  idea  or  impression 
which  he  wished  to  convey.*    It  brought  full  satisfaction 

*  His  rfrc«7fti«o' imaginations  were,  sometimes  at  least,  9s  regu- 
lar and  instructive,  as  those  which  were  formed  in  obedience  to  the 
will  : 

"  Once  I  dreamed  of  being  transported  to  heaven,  sind  being  sur- 


EDWARD  I'AYSON. 


439 


to  the  mind  of  the  hearer.    He  felt  that  he  knciv  what 
was  thus  taught  him. 

Some  have  supposed,  that  he  el^ployed  analogies  and 
the  creations  of  fancy,  as  the  means  of  investigating 
truth — that  is,  if  I  understand  their  meaning — that,  sup- 
posing '  truth  to  lie  in  a  well,'  his  imagination  fitted  up 
a  sort  of  machinery  to  draw  it  out.  But  this  is  a  mis- 
take :  he  had,  like  others,  to  dive  or  dig  for  it.  He  had 
early  imbibed  the  maxim,  '  There  is  no  royal  road  to 
knowledge and  felt  its  application  to  theology,  as  well 
as  to  '  geometry.'  His  acquisitions  were  made  by  close 
and  prayerful  investigation.  Too  much  has  been  ascri- 
bed to  his  genius,  and  too  little  to  his  industry.  His  na- 
tive talents  were  indeed  of  a  high  order,  but  they  were 
strengthened  by  cultivation  and  e.vercise.  His  ardor  in 
the  pursuit  of  knowledge  never  abated  ;  his  acquisitions 
were  constantly  accumulating.  It  was  by  continually 
extending  his  acquaintance  with  God's  world  and  the 
creatures  who  inhabit  it,  that  he  procured  the  materials 
with  which  imagination  might  work.  The  conclusions 
to  which  he  was  conducted  by  his  own  investigations — 
the  conceptions  which  existed  in  his  own  mind,  he  did 
often  communicate  to  others  by  analogies,  similitudes, 
and  imagined  cases ;  and  this,  it  is  conceived,  is  their 
legitimate  use. 

He  had  a  high  relish  for  literary  pursuits,  and  greatly 
enjoyed  the  society  of  literary  men.  And  it  will  be  re- 
garded, by  those  who  are  able  to  appreciate  it,  as  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  instances  of  his  self-denial,  that  he 
could  abandon  a  pleasure,  of  which  he  was  so  highly  sus- 
ceptible, in  order  the  more  elfectu  illy  to  promote  the 
salvation  of  his  species.  It  may  well  be  spoken  of  as  an 
abandonment ; — for  when  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  min- 
istry, l>e  ceased  to  cultivate  classical  literature  for  the  • 
sake  of  fame,  or  for  his  own  individual  gratification  mere- 
ly. He  could  not  indulge  himself  and  consume  his  time 
in  refined  intellectual  luxuries,  when  souls  were  perish- 

P'ised  to  find  myself  so  calm  and  tranquil  in  the  midst  of  itiy  happi- 
ness, inquired  the  cause.  Tlie  reply  was— Wi:en  you  wore  on  earth 
you  resembled  a  b  ttle  but  partly  filled  with  water,  which  was  agi- 
tated by  the  le  st  motion  ;  now  you  are  like  the  same  bottle  filled 
to  the  biim,  which  cannot  be  disturbed." 


440 


MEMOIR  OF 


ing  around  him.  There  were  subjects  of  real  and  ac- 
knowledged utility — subjects  of  deep  and  everlasting  in- 
terest— pursuits,  immAiiately  connected  with  the  immor- 
tal destinies  of  men,  sufficient  to  employ  his  time  and 
task  his  best  powers.  To  learning  of  doubtlul  utility, 
and  rare  application,  whether  recondite  or  elegant,  he 
paid  little  attention.  He  estimated  the  probable  perma- 
nent advantages  to  be  expected  from  ditfereiit  pursuits, 
by  the  balances  of  the  sanctuary,  and  resolutely  tbrsook 
those,  however  consonant  to  his  inclinations, — "  where 
the  gains  will  not  pay  for  the  candle,  and  where  the  phi- 
losopher and  the  scholar  threaten  to  swallow  up  the  di- 
vine." 

Yet  in  the  legitimate  sense  of  the  term,  he  was  a  phi- 
losopher. In  the  philosophy  of  that  department,  in  which 
he  shone  pre-eminently,  he  had  the  start  of  the  age.  He 
anticipated  the  substantial  improvements  in  the  manner 
of  conducting  theological  researches,  which  our  theologi- 
cal seminaries  have  done  so  much  to  introduce  and  ex- 
tend. His  discernment,  judgment  and  good  sense  are 
strikingly  apparent  in  the  course  which  he  pursued  to  pre- 
pare hiinselt  foi  the  pulpit.  Theology  he  regarded  as  a 
divine  science  and  he  sought  it  through  the  medium  of 
that  divine  revelation,  which  has  been  communicated  to 
the  world,  and  not  in  human  speculations.  He  studied 
to  ascertain  those  boundaries,  Vvfhich  .separate  what  may 
be  known  by  man,  from  that  which  must  forever  elude  his 
research,  unless  the  liglit  of  eternity  shall  reveal  it, — and 
he  never  overstepped  thein.  He  stopped  at  ultimate  facts  ; 
and  never  '  intruded  into  those  things  which  are  not  con- 
venient,' and  of  which  the  .sage  knows  as  little  ats  the  child. 

Those  whom  he  was  endeavoring  to  guide  to  heaven, 
he  also  strove  to  keep  within  the  same  limits  ;  teaching 
-  them  that  "  secret  things  belong  to  the  Lord,  but  the 
things  that  are  revealed  to  them  and  to  their  children." 
And  among  the  "  things  that  are  revealed,"  he  distin- 
guished between  those  which  are  capable  of  receiving 
elucidation  from  human  discussion,  and  those  that  mock 
all  human  explanation,  and  with  respect  to  which  the 
very  att-^mpt  "  .ould  be  '  darkening  counsel  by  words  with- 
out knowledge  '  There  .vas  no  doctrine  found  in  the 
Bible  which  he  hesitated  to  assert  and  defend ;  but  he 


EDWARD  1' AYS  ON. 


441 


guarded  against  resting  in  it  as  a  mere  speculation, — 
against  '  holding  the  truth  in  unrighteousness.'  His 
great  aim  was  to  make  every  scriptural  theme  bear  with 
force  upon  the  conscience, — to  have  every  doctrine  ex- 
cite its  correspondent  emotion,  and  every  precept  its  ob- 
ligation. If  his  success  is  not  an  adequate  recommenda- 
tion of  his  practice,  the  experience  of  the  church,  in  past 
ages,  holds  out  an  affecting  warning  of  the  evils  of  a  con- 
trary course.  "  Christianity,"  says  a  recent  writer,  "  has 
in  some  short  periods  of  its  history  been  entirely  dissoci- 
ated from  philosophical  modes  of  thought  and  expression  ; 
and  assuredly  it  has  prospered  in  such  periods.  At  oth- 
er times  it  has  scarcely  been  seen  at  all,  except  in  the 
garb  of  metaphysical  discussion,  and  then  it  has  lost  all 
its  vigor  and  glory." 

It  has  been  supposed  by  some,  that  there  must  have 
been  a  deplorable  leanness  in  his  discourses,  as  it  respects 
the  essential  and  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  This 
suspicion  may  never  have  prevailed  extensively,  and  it  is 
not  certainly  known  on  what  it  is  founded.  It  may  have 
arisen  from  the  fact,  that  such  multitudes  flocked  to  hear 
him,  in  connection  with  another  fact,  viz  :  the  sinful  op- 
position of  the  human  heart  to  the  humbling  doctrines  of 
the  cross.  In  regard  to  some,  it  may  liave  arisen  from 
the  fact,  that  he  reasoned,  without  the  parade  of  reason- 
ing' :  that  he  argued,  without  reducing  his  arguments  to 
the  dry  bones  of  a  syllogism  ;  that  he  was  not  accustom- 
ed to  assume  a  bold  and  startling  position,  and  then  de- 
clare, in  due  form,  how  he  was  going  to  prove  it.  It 
may  have  arisen  from  the  fact,  that  he  always  preached  so 
as  to  be  understood,  and  left  no  room  for  the  inference, 
that  he  must  be  a  deep  man,  because  his  meaning 
could  not  be  apprehended.  But  whether  the  sus- 
picion be  owing  to  any  or  none  of  these  causes,  it  is 
doubted  whether  it  has  any  better  foundation  to  rest  upon. 
He  did  not  '  walk  in  craftiness,  nor  handle  the  word  of 
God  deceitfully.'  He  could  have  concealed  nothing  from 
design,  which  it  was  obligatory  on  him  to  declare  ;  for 
this  would  be  contrary  to  his  whole  character.  Friends 
and  foes  alike  gave  him  credit  for  honesty  and  plain  deal- 
ing. It  could  not  be  for  want  of  courage  ;  for  he  feared 
not  the  face  of  flesh,  and  some  of  the  practical  discourses 


-i42  MEMOIR  OF 

which  he  delivered,  it  required  tenfold  more  of  moral  hero- 
ism to  pronounce,  than  it  would  the  most  offensive  doc- 
trines. Sinners  might  sit  and  hear  the  doctrines  of  elec- 
tion and  reprobation  defended,  and  not  feel  half  the  oppo- 
sition of  heart,  which  would  be  drawn  forth  bv  Dr.  Pajson's 
sermon,  in  which  fr:iud  is  exposed  and  condemned  ;  and 
other  evil  prac;icesdid  not  receive  a  whit  more  indulgence 
from  him. 

Others,  again,  who  were  at  a  loss  to  account,  on  satis- 
factory principles,  for  the  attraction  which  drew  and  boi  nd 
so  many  to  him,  have  asciibed  liis  influence  to  different 
causes  ;  as,  an  artful  and  impassioned  oratory,  a  talent  for 
amusing  an  audience,  and  even  to  rant !  No  flattering 
compliment,  to  be  sure,  to  his  hearers  ;  but  it  should  be 
stated  by  way  of  apology  for  these  surmises,  that  their  au- 
thors lived  at  a  distance,  and  did  not  ku  .w  him  A  little 
knowledge  of  human  nature  might  have  been  sufficient  to 
correct  such  an  error.  No  man,  by  such  means,  could 
have  sustained  a  growing  reputation  in  the  same  place,  for 
a  period  of  twenty  years,  receiving  continual  accessions 
to  his  flock,  which  included  a  fair  proportion  of  profession- 
al characters,  and  men  of  cultivated  minds.  There  was, 
it  is  true,  always  something  in  his  discourses  to  delight  the 
GTeri  wnen  iiis  language  was  ttie  vehicle  of  unwel- 
come truths,  but  he  never  uttered  any  thing  from  the  pul- 
pit with  the  view  to  amuse.    Never  did  he 

"  Court  a  grin,  when  he  should  woo  a  soul." 

There  was  nothing  of  stage  effect  either  in  Dr.  Pay- 
son's  personal  appearance,  or  in  his  eloquence — no  im- 
posing attitudes,  or  gestures — no  extremes  of  intonation 
— no  affectation  of  tears.  It  was  simple  nature,  sanctifi- 
ed by  grace,  uttering  the  deep  convictions  of  the  heart, 
and  pleading  with  fellow  sinners  to  become  reconciled  to 
God.  It  was  the  eloquence  of  truth  spoken  in  love.  The 
words  seemed  to  come  from  his  mouth,  encompassed  by 
that  glowing  atmosphere  in  which  they  left  the  heart,  and 
to  brand  their  very  impression  in  every  heart  on  which 
they  fell. 

On  account  of  the  rapid  increase  of  his  church,  some 
have  imajined  that  he  must  have  admitted  persons  of 
dubious  piety.  A  venerable  minister  in  another  Stale 
once  sent  him  a  message, — and  by  a  member  of  bis  church 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


443 


too — "  not  to  make  Christians  too  fast."  To  say  nothing 
of  the  brotherly-kindness  of  such  an  insinuation  conveyed 
by  such  a  messenger,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  that  good 
man's  successor  did  not  find  as  much  "  wood,  hay,  and 
stubble,"  in  the  superstructure  of  his  own  erecting — as 
much  at  least  in  proportion  to  its  dimensions,  as  did  Dr. 
Payson's.  And  yet  he  was  a  man  of  known,  and  ac- 
knowledged fidelity.  What  church  does  not  receive  and 
retain  hypocrites  ?  If  such  characters  found  their  way  in- 
to Dr.  Payson's  church,  his  skirts  are  clear  of  their  blood  : 
he  aimed  to  do  his  duty  faithfully,  and  no  minister  was 
ever  more  attentive  to  church  discipline.  Facts,  which 
have  appeared  so  wonderful,  and  have  been  accounted 
for  in  so  many  conjectural  ways,  will  not,  perhaps,  ap- 
pear surprising,  when  his  private  devotions,  and  public 
labors  become  more  extensively  known.  Perhaps  it  will 
be  felt,  that  the  means  which  he  employed,  and  which 
God  blessed,  bore  as  full  a  proportion  to  their  results,  as 
in  other  ordinary  cases. 

It  has  been' supposed,  too,  that  his  person  and  peculiar 
mental  characteristics  were  the  bond  of  union,  which  kept 
his  church  and  parish  together,  and  that  when  he  should 
be  removed,  the  massive  body  would  fall  to  pieces.  This 
expectation  has  shared  the  same  fate  as  many  predictions 
of  which  Dr.  Payson  or  his  people,  were  the  subject.  Du- 
ring the  whole  trying  period,  in  which  they  were  without 
a  pastor,  their  integrity  was  almost  unexampled.  Not  a 
single  defection  took  place,  proving  that  it  was  not  his  per- 
son only,  but  the  influence  of  his  doctrines,  which  united 
them  as  one. 

That  his  mode  of  exhibiting  the  truths  of  the  gospel  was 
preeminently  felicitous,  we  have  one  very  pleasing  proof 
in  the  tenacity  with  which  his  instructions  are  remember- 
ed.* This  testimony  to  the  completeness  of  his  qualifica- 
tions, "as  a  workman  that  needed  not  to  be  ashamed,  rightly 
dividing  the  word  of  truth,"still  exists  in  hundreds  of  hearts. 
"  His  words  were  as  nails  fastened  in  a  sure  place,  leaving 
stings  in  the  mind,  and  bidding  defiance  even  to  a  bad 

*  The  Editor  of  his  posthumous  sermons,  during  the  progress  of 
the  vohime,  in  answering  inquiries  respecting  them,  was  frequently 
interrupted  with — "  I  hope  such  a  sennon  will  be  one" — the  subject 
being  named  at  tho  same  time.  This  wish  was  heard,  not  from  in- 
habitants of  Portland  only,  but  by  others,  who  had  changed  thin 
residence  for  another,  from  five  to  fifteen  years  before. 


444 


MEMt)m  OF  EDWARD  PAYSON, 


memory  to  forget."  A  specimen  of  his  pulpit  discourses 
is  already  before  the  public,  and  will  speak  their  own  apol- 
ogy. That  thej  want  much,  which  gave  them  interest 
and  effect  in  the  delivery  is  known  by  all  who  knew  him. 
A  ministering  brother,  at  a  distance,  after  he  had  read  the 
volume,  thus  wrote — "  That  speaking  eye,  and  thrilling 
tone,  and  those  flashes  of  holy  fire,  and  that  countenance, 
which  at  times  seemed  more  than  mortal,  I  do  not  indeed 
find.  Probably  most  of  those  glowing  illustrations,  and 
irresistible  appeals  were  made,  even  when  he  had  a  writ- 
ten discourse  before  him,  from  the  inspiration  of  the  mo- 
ment. Still  there  is  so  much  of  the  original  in  these 
pieces,  that  the  lineaments  of  his  celestial  soul  can  be 
easily  traced." — His  eloquence  was,  in  the  language  of 
Milton,  "  the  serious  and  hearty  love  of  truth  ;  his  mind 
fully  possessed  with  a  fervent  desire  to  know  good  things, 
and  with  the  dearest  charity  to  infuse  the  knowledge  of 
them  into  others.  When  siirk  a  man  would  speak,  his 
words,  like  so  many  niriible  and  airy  servitors,  trip  about 
him  at  command,  and,  in  well-ordered  files,  as  he  would 
wish,  fall  aptly  into  their  own  places." 

That  he  had  preached  the  gospel  fully  and  faithfully, 
not  shunning  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God,  he  had 
the  testimony  of  his  conscience,  in  the  near  prospect  of 
the  last  tribunal.  To  repeated  interrogatories  in  relation 
to  this  point,  his  answers  were  full  and  unequivocal. 

The  religion  which  he  preached  and  exemplified  in 
life,  sustained  him  in  the  hour,  when  flesh  and  heart  fail- 
ed, and  shed  unclouded  light  on  his  passage  to  the  un- 
seen world. — And  shall  we  say — we  here  borrow  the 
language  employed  by  a  valued  brother  on  occasion  of  his 
death — "  Shall  we  say  that  all  this  was  delus^ion  and  an 
unsubstantial  vision  ?  Shall  we  imagine  that  this  most 
active  mind  is  now  extinct  ?  that  this  servant  and  friend 
of  Jesus  Christ  is  annihilated,  is Has  the  tempest 
stolen  him  away  ?  Long  tossed  on  the  billows  has  he  been 
swallowed  up  by  the  deep?  Oh,  no  !  But  as  God  is  true 
we  believe  he  has  entered  a  secure  haven,  where  the 
storm  is  not  heard, — where  the  agitation  of  the  elements 
is  not  felt,  where  no  wave  of  trouble  ever  breaks  upon  the 
peaceful  shore, — where  not  a  ripple  disturbs  the  deep  se- 
renity, which  reflects  to  the  astonished  eye  the  beauty, 
and  brightness,  and  majesty  of  the  skies." 


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